I wonder if the clock is working. It seems to me that each time I glance at it no time has passed and I’ve already studied everything I could possibly notice in this waiting area. Right now my eyes are glued to a thirty-something, tired-looking mother trying to regain control over two boys who are now crawling under the seats and disturbing passengers' feet as they maneuver through their tunnell. "You get over hear right now boys, I’m telling you., their mom finally says to the relief of the rest of us.
"Yah, they're going to listen to you, mom" I think, looking down at my feet. I'm sure this mom is aware that I’ve been watching her for almost 5 minutes and that I’m smiling. Maybe that’s why she gets up and offers the kids treats. At the word treats they fall in line right behind her like my dog Bandit used to do. I think how 'treat’ must be a cross-species word and watch them disappear around the corner.
I think about Bandit again and realize I can’t actually picture her face anymore. I can just conjure up an idea of her large, white, shaggy frame and how, if she stood sideways in a hallway she’d block it. I remember how I used to love looking into her eyes and thank her for watching out for us and how her busyh tail wagged in gratitude. I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately and wonder if she’s still alive.
I look at the clock and feel a thin line of electricity surge through my body. The clock is working, afterall and she'll be here in less than an hour! At the thought my eyes well up with tears again, like they've been doing since this meeting was arranged. I can hardly believe I'll be seeing her again but I can't have these tears. Not now. Quick blinking, circling my eyes and repeating the words ‘roast beef’ in my head a dozen times reduce the tears to a trickle and I'm relieved. There is a deluge waiting but I don’t want the dam to break yet. My daughter can see my tears after we meet but I don’t want anything to cloud my eyes before that moment when she walks through the door, and I can finally tell her I had made a terrible mistake in leaving.
Copyright © 2005 Pamela Hamilton
"Yah, they're going to listen to you, mom" I think, looking down at my feet. I'm sure this mom is aware that I’ve been watching her for almost 5 minutes and that I’m smiling. Maybe that’s why she gets up and offers the kids treats. At the word treats they fall in line right behind her like my dog Bandit used to do. I think how 'treat’ must be a cross-species word and watch them disappear around the corner.
I think about Bandit again and realize I can’t actually picture her face anymore. I can just conjure up an idea of her large, white, shaggy frame and how, if she stood sideways in a hallway she’d block it. I remember how I used to love looking into her eyes and thank her for watching out for us and how her busyh tail wagged in gratitude. I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately and wonder if she’s still alive.
I look at the clock and feel a thin line of electricity surge through my body. The clock is working, afterall and she'll be here in less than an hour! At the thought my eyes well up with tears again, like they've been doing since this meeting was arranged. I can hardly believe I'll be seeing her again but I can't have these tears. Not now. Quick blinking, circling my eyes and repeating the words ‘roast beef’ in my head a dozen times reduce the tears to a trickle and I'm relieved. There is a deluge waiting but I don’t want the dam to break yet. My daughter can see my tears after we meet but I don’t want anything to cloud my eyes before that moment when she walks through the door, and I can finally tell her I had made a terrible mistake in leaving.
Copyright © 2005 Pamela Hamilton
posted by Pamela Hamilton at 10:37 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home