Expectantly, I wait in my wheelchair in the front lobby. Time creeps by so slowly. I wear a wrinkled old shirt and baggy sweat pants.
“They are the only clean clothes we can find this morning in your dresser drawer,” nursing home staff tell me with a look of pity on their faces.
I am excited. My family may come and visit me today. It has been over a year since I last saw them. They always say they are too busy.
It is getting late. I think it may be time for my afternoon nap. There is always tomorrow.
“They are the only clean clothes we can find this morning in your dresser drawer,” nursing home staff tell me with a look of pity on their faces.
I am excited. My family may come and visit me today. It has been over a year since I last saw them. They always say they are too busy.
It is getting late. I think it may be time for my afternoon nap. There is always tomorrow.
