waiting room

I was in a waiting room at a health clinic. they called your name and I realised I hadn’t booked my appointment. you came in soon after and didn’t know they were waiting for you, so you sat on the other end of the couch. I felt you turn to catch my eye a couple of times. I tried to steal a glance of my own but you caught me. you smiled and slid across the couch a little closer. this is when I knew I was dreaming. I leant into the cradle of your shoulder and neck and I rested my head there.

I wake to heavy eyes and the ice around my neck and I pull myself into a day in the screen on a desk in a room on my own. there are tasks that I complete and others I’ll need to come back to. I hydrate and present myself to virtual meetings. I smile at the right times and make myself useful where I can. the sun passes over and disappears and it’s been another day without going outside. I read the news and wash myself in a home with food and blankets and I am safe and that is lucky.

my grandmother is in the hospital. we don’t know how serious it is, but it should be enough to remind me of the insignificance of everything else. mum is in another hemisphere. on the phone she said she was okay but I know it’s not that simple. we put everything we have into living. it’s no wonder we don’t know how to do death.