from the waiting place

I wake up this morning feeling sick, and quite sure that this is going to be the last day of my mother's life. like I could feel it somehow, and I paid attention to it, knowing I'd be writing about it later. the same way I cleaned up the house knowing I'd be watching a movie later that night with justin. my intuition has been razor-sharp these days.

only this morning, I took some rolaids, and the sickness went away. so maybe I was wrong. or maybe the planets said one thing at eight o'clock this morning and something else after they shifted around ten. when her vital signs were good, and every moment of interaction with the hospital and its inhabitants had been calm and reassuring.

case in point:

there's a starbucks in the little atrium cafeteria. I've got a grande awake, my rumi book, and there's a seventy year old guy playing a big-bodied gibson right next to me. I've just had some fruit and some low-fat granola.

and as it just so happens, when we got in here it was so crowded that my aunt and sister aren't able to sit anywhere near me. I took the seat next to the old guy. no one else seemed to want it.

the next song up is called "a ghost of a chance".

you get the picture.

things not to forget from the many hours in said room:

children's books -
"happy birthday moon!"
next to
"I had a terrible day."
like a pair of
personalities.

and rumi reminds
to sit, wait, take time to fast,
don't announce where to go,
or what you think you want -
instead, ask.
it's okay not to speak
inside a full room
if your language is not known.
let the little dog
coax your soul out to play,
and strive
to be like lovers.

~vvb