05/13/2009

the quiet and florescence of a hospital at night are strange. i sit in a conference room overrun with wires and computers. the phone hasn’t rung in hours.

the girl next to me clack clacks with her new nails and her new ring and sips water out of a refilled diet coke bottle. the custodian guy’s buffer whirs on the tile floor outside.

i carry my folder and pen through the ED for the 20th time. the waiting area is sprinkled with random people who weren’t there last time i went though, and who i won’t see next time through.

everything in the hallways is silent and disinfected. the air conditioning hisses silently out of every vent and water drips down from every corner outside. the construction equipment lies dormant outside, cranes and backhoes and bulldozers sleep in shadows, like a dinosaur boneyard.

the doors are all closed and the lights are all dim on the inpatient floors as the kiddos sleep and their parents hold down sofas. the wagons and strollers socialize by the elevator like a inanimate happy hour. nurses and docs and steam from coffees are illuminated by computer screens.

there’s a baby girl with down syndrome clutching my index finger. there’s a girl of 3 or 4 with no hair except a ring around the bottom. she’s skipping along with her mom whispering in Spanish behind.

there’s nothing to write on my report sheet. no one sees me as I pad through the parking garage in the dark where the florescence is yellowish brown. the streetlights march past me on either side. the cathedral sits silently sunk into the earth of a hill, pinning the night in place.

there’s no one in the parking garage. no one in the apartment office. only an impatiently waiting DVD in the mailbox. the elevator waits on the ground floor, lonely for hours.

the keys go on the hooks. my phone goes on the shelf and plugged in. shoes go in their place. shirt and socks go in the hamper. I go onto the carpet, back to the recliner.

TheDiva

May 13, 2009

It sounds lonely. Bet some zombies would lighten it up a bit.

convoyeur

do you ever write poems? not that this isn’t one…

catch the sparks

You’re a beautiful writer.

Boy it must have been a quiet night. Things will pick up, Mark. You are a beautiful writer.

I think these are my favorite kind of entries of yours…the little nuances captured so eloquently–the unnoticed is noticed by you.

Lamb

May 14, 2009

You forgot the part about when the Ninja jumps out from her hiding place on the wall and attacks your reclining self. o.O *grin*

I love this. I love it. It puts such calm in my heart. Where in Minnesota are you?

This is an amazing entry.

wunderkont

yes, this feels melancholy.

Without Wings

i think this feels peaceful, quiet.

elevens

Whiskiwoman

May 16, 2009

…you know I’m proud of you, right…? I know you made this move for all the right reasons and I’m sure your faith, your courage, your motivation and drive to succeed will pay off in big ways, Mark. *soft smile* But I have to honest with you… Reading an entry like this…? I really wish you home and I could give you a hug. *sad lil’ frown* Sending very best thoughts & prayers your way.Try your best to brighten the darkness…smile bright, Tiger. *HUGS* Take good care and thank you for your note. Miss you.