The Waiting Room, by Ed N. White
Everyone here was young once. We ran and jumped, laughed, and loved. We worked, bore babies, bore arms, and bore responsibility. Now we sit quietly waiting. Some listlessly leaf through old magazines. Some breathe aided by tubes. Some clutch their arms around them as if to hold their faltering bones in place. This is what we do now with only receding memories to explain our past. The wall-mounted TV is muted. The plants need water. The clock hands never stop. We sit quietly, without fuss, and wait for the door to open and the clipboard lady to call a name.
10/1/2020 10:34:04 am
What a vivid, somber word picture. Well done.
Ed N. White
10/1/2020 08:53:28 pm
Thanks, Don, I composed this while actually in a doctor's waiting room. Art mimics life.
10/1/2020 08:55:23 pm
You're a keen observer, Ed.
10/1/2020 04:21:25 pm
Realistically rendered, but a future none of us, I'm sure, look forward to experiencing.
Ed N. White
10/1/2020 08:56:11 pm
Thanks, Bobby, this was real I was in a waiting room and wrote this on my phone sending it to my email. Old age sucks.
16/1/2020 12:32:32 am
What a touching, evocative story, sensitively observed - and very identifiable with! Well done. Linda
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