Monday, January 23, 2017

The waiting room

Flickr photo by thekirbster
I sat in the waiting room at the optometrist’s office

I’d been waiting for a good while when an older couple walked through the door

They looked to be in their 80s, but I’m not very good at guessing things like that

The woman seemed to be in better shape, and the man leaned heavily on her arm

He was stooped, with a head full of silver hair and bushy eyebrows

She was smartly dressed, with a buttoned-up navy coat and a candy-cane-striped pin on her collar

The woman took a seat across from me, while the man continued to the counter

I was afraid he might fall


If I had one word to describe him, that would be it

I heard him tell the receptionist that his glasses were broken, and she pointed him to a young man behind a table

That left the woman and me, looking across at each other

“Are you from around here?” she said loudly

She beamed as she talked

A face like an angel

“Well, yes ma’am I am,” I replied

And I told her where I lived and then asked her where she was from

She mumbled something and then said, “We go here and there and do this and that and go around and round”

It was then I knew she was having trouble with her memory

When she finished talking, she paused, giving me a turn

I told her that my wife was a teacher

That there were a lot more people in this city than there used to be

That I had a niece who lived in Chicago

Anything that came to mind, I shared

And her responses were generally about the same

“We go here and there … and do this and that … and go around and round”

I finally noticed that her husband was wrapping up his business with the glasses

He was slowly making his way back toward us

The woman noticed too and said

“My husband … he’s a good guy”

He grinned at the woman and said warmly

“Who are you bothering now?”

He nodded to me, and the two of them walked slowly out of the waiting room

Arm in arm