I saw her when I walked into the waiting room. Her white hair formed a soft halo of tight curls around her smiling face. She sat comfortably, her legs outstretched, feet donned with thick-soled orthopedic shoes.
I was the designated driver for a friend who was getting her wisdom teeth removed. I’d run an errand, and now it was time to address the work I’d brought along. I sat down along the wall in a nondescript waiting room chair and pulled a folder from my bag.
A middle-aged woman turned from the nurses’ window and took the seat beside her. They sat in silence for a minute. Then, the first woman’s body tilted onto one hip, bringing her head closer to her younger companion’s. “Do you know what we’re doing? ‘Cause I don’t.”
The middle-aged woman smiled kindly. Speaking a few decibels louder than normal, she slowly explained they were there so she could get her teeth cleaned, a basic routine dental check up. The older woman listened carefully, seriously, still leaning toward her companion.
Finally she sat back upright, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”
Read more