i'm nervously twisting the chunky ring i wear on my thumbj the celtic inspired band given to me by my ll'il bro (on my 40th b'day). The bus rumbles with excruciating sloth down oak street towards the city centre. . I'n on my way to visit brenda in the hospital. I've been procrastinating and putting it off for the better part of a week, but since the carpets are need to dry some and the sun is shining, i force myself. Force myself to take on a sunny disposition in the face of my angst hoping the cheesy cliche takes hold and things will lift a bit. I dread hospitals for the same reasons everyone else does. It's seldom a jjoyous event when you find yourself summoned or compelled to visit. The day is glittering bright and i open my eyes wide, as if by doing this i can absorb enough of it to feel more like a participant in the human race. Here again, am i. Never can seem to get ahead of it. It's always lurking somewhere there in the long shadows around the corners of my everyday. . I stay longer than i intend, but it's ok. We chat idly as if we are enjoying an afternoon on a little cafe patio enjoying the sun; idly luxuriating in an extraordinary day. . Her smalll frame hardly seems to dent the covers; dwarfed further by all the collection of bleating, dripping equipment beside her bed. With its tangle of attendant tubing. Soon i say my goodbyes and feel a swell of emotion as i clasp her hand as i leave. I've known Bren for almost 20 years now and i'm only now just beginning to realize how much i care for her. She's one of us--the tough survivors.
florence colorado, anders frisk england.
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