Cloud

May 22, 2017

Greetings from the intersection,

She was not going to the cafeteria.  She knew that because her mom told her that if she ran down the hallway again she was not going to the cafeteria to get cookies at Subway.  Her mom said it like she was whispering but she was saying it real loud too.  And then she ran down the hallway and had to sit in the chair and not move a muscle.  And not go to the cafeteria.

The room smelled funny and everyone had to sit quietly, even the grownups.  It was like school, or church but it smelled like when mom cleaned the kitchen floor.  She slid off the chair and dropped her feet onto the floor extra loud to see if anyone would notice and only a nurse looked up.  Her mom was showing Nanna something on her phone.  Maybe it was a word game. 

She walked over to the hall and looked; it was longer than any hall she had ever seen. It stretched out past a lot of doors and other rooms.  She felt the urge to run, but resisted.

She made giant steps across the hall from the waiting area, almost getting in the way of a man pushing a woman in a wheel chair.  She stood near the windows, on her tippy toes, her chin just above the marble sill.  At first she was looking at the reflection of the waiting area, wondering if her mom was going to look up at her.  Then she looked at her own reflection, the top of her head.  She reached up and touched the glass.

Beyond the windows was outside, but there was no place to play out there.  Just cars parked everywhere.  She saw them when they came in here to bring Nanna, about a million hours ago.

She looked beyond the glass at the sky; she was not tall enough to look down at whatever was there.  She watched for a moment, her fingers still resting on the glass, and saw a big fluffy cloud drifting in the sky.  It could be a puppy, a white one, or if she squinted a little it could be the shape of Mickey Mouse.  But white. 

She looked out of the corner of her eye.  She was going to run down the hall.  Just a little bit.

“Howard.”  A woman was calling his last name.  At least that is what he thought.  Was he supposed to go with her?  He started to get up and then someone else walked up to the nurse and maybe his name was Howard.

He sat back down.  He held the clipboard with the papers they wanted him to fill out.  “Just do the best you can.” is what the nurse said.  She looked at him differently because he was alone and old.  She figured he was not up to the job.

He had flown planes in combat.  He had raised a family, always had a good paying job.  Never took welfare.  He changed the oil in his lawn mower and sharpened the blades.  He balanced his checkbook every week.  He could fill out a form.

He had circled and checked and filled in the places he needed to.  He wrote down what surgeries he’d had and when he quit smoking and scribbled in the name of his doctor and the one prescription they didn’t list.  They never listed it for some reason, and every time he met a new doctor he had to fill out this same form.

He knew they had all this information somewhere in all those computers.  They just gave him this form to work on to keep him occupied while he waited.  He filled out the form and he waited to hear his name.  The nurse would ask him his birthday; he always felt like this was a test. 

He did not write on the form that he was depressed now.  It was none of their business.  He ran his hands over the bruises on his skin, from where they stabbed him with the IV.  Every time it was hard.  He wished it was not so hard.  He had enough hard.

He looked away from the wall with the paintings of lakeside cottages, country roads, other peaceful settings.  He looked at them every time he came here and now they seemed false and it irritated him to look at them.  He looked over toward the windows instead.

A little girl was there trying to see outside.  He noticed her stomping around earlier.  Kids today have no respect, he thought, don’t know how to behave.  Even little kids.

The sky was blue, such a relief after all the grey days.  If it stayed nice one more day he could mow his lawn, and maybe sit outside in the evening.  He knew if he was on the front porch the neighbor across the street would stop by and ask him how he was doing.  He looked down at the form to see what he would say.  He sighed.  A big deep breath in, and then out.

Higher in the sky was a bank of clouds.  Cumulus.  They were bold white in the blue sky, innocent clouds with no rain intent, just drifting over, making their way on some wind he would never feel. 

He watched the clouds, happy to be looking at something other than the cottages and the country roads.  They were big, white, mashed potatoes on a blue plate.  He puffed a little laugh.  Now he was hungry.  At least that was something.

She stood behind the sign that said: “For the privacy of other patients, please wait here until you are called to the desk.”

She could feel the muscles in her calves starting to cramp.  She was going to sit down soon, no matter what the sign said.  She hated standing here in the hall, like she was at the DMV.   This was her life, not renewing her license plates.   It was awkward, people pushing past to go into the waiting area, just to have to come back out again to get in line behind her.

She was long past feeling self-conscious.  People looked at her headscarf and they knew.  She knew her skin was ashy and that she looked like she needed a good meal.  She could see the grey circles around her eyes on the rare occasion she looked in the mirror.  She shook her head to stop thinking about it.  She didn’t care about that.

She cared about whether her children were worried.  If the dog was being fed while they were here.  She couldn’t remember if she sent a thank you card to the neighbors for the food they brought.  Lasagna she couldn’t bear to eat.

She felt herself sway for a moment and put her hand on her husband’s arm to feel steady.  She was going to sit down, very soon.  She never imagined in her life she would be in such a state that she could not stand for five minutes without tiring. 

Nearly everyone in the waiting area was looking at their phones.  God it was a lonely place.  All this suffering and none of us speaking to each other, about anything.  She shook her head again.

A small girl with a tangle of blonde hair, probably four or five, came stomping out of the waiting area.  Where was her mother?  She watched her weave between the people in the hall and go over to the windows, reaching up to put her hand on them.  So sweet.  It had to be hard for her, waiting in here with nothing to do, nothing to play with.

Her own eyes lifted to see beyond the glass.  On this floor she was looking at the top of the trees, already green and leafy, flush with the spring rain.  She loved spring.  The sky was so blue and bright it hurt her eyes a little to look at it.  Above the trees were clusters of clouds; china white in cerulean blue.  Had she read that somewhere?

They were so vivid against the sky.  It was as if someone had cut holes in the blue and the white was shining through from the other side.  She smiled a little at the words in her head.  Maybe when she sat down she would write something in her journal.

Just then the little girl began running down the hall, her hair streaming out behind her, little feet whirling under her.  As if she could run forever.

Hope this finds you looking up,

David