Things Gonna Change Some, Sugarloaf

I'm at the blue waiting room at the hospital. I look around and there are around 8 women talking about a girl who is feeling better. There seems to be some kind of virus amongst small kids and this girl was one of them. There's a TV playing the sequel of the Mummy and the women are commenting on the visual effects of the movies nowadays.

A pregnant women comes in with her husband, fill some paperwork and get admitted. The women wish her luck.

My mother comes out to tell us my grandmother is OK. She fell while they were on a trip two hours away from Mexico City. My grandmother is 93 years old but her bones are resilient, the kind of bones new generations don't have anymore. I consider old people the bravest of people, it seems to be (old age) the most fragile and vulnerable situation you'll ever be. There has been a constant negotiation with loss, of loved ones, of movement, of skills and memory. Still, they wake up every morning and face what we don't seem to be aware of, the closeness of Thanantos, the unwanted but close friend.

Her son is in the hospital too. She doesn't know but he has been diagnosed with Cancer. We all take a deep breath and embrace ourselves for what may come. We look at her and we know this kind of news you don't break to her anymore. Shielding her from the truth, maybe even shielding ourselves from the truth.

Things are going to change. They always do but we seem to forget it. A year ago I had a feeling things ought to change and I took some painful steps to make that change. I'm trying new things such as teaching, I have to hurry to give something back to others and in moments like this, at the blue waiting room, you are able to grasp the dimensions of the tiny, insignificance of your life. 

Let's hurry. To make sure we love what we do, we love who we want and hope that makes us free till we are on the other side of the waiting room, in a blue robe, wondering how we even got there.