Healing

I have tried my best to avoid our local hospital over the past year.

But I've been up there two or three times since Mom died; once for a workshop and once for blood work, anyway. Still I have managed to avoid the actual wards. Like the plague.

There is a coffee/snack kiosk in the lobby and surprisingly, the coffee is pretty good. Being a true coffee addict, I spent a lot of time there when Mom was in the hospital. One woman, in particular, who worked there (her name escapes me now -I have a good memory but it's a little on the short side) was particularly friendly. Sweet, actually. We chatted a lot and shared a lot of personal stuff.

I've seen her at the kiosk on a couple of occasions when I've been at the hospital since then. And I literally could not physically force myself to walk over there and say hello.

Just. Could. Not. Do. It.

It was too much. Just the thought of it hurt too bad.

I was up at the hospital this morning for blood work. And she was at the kiosk. I was surprised to find that not only could I go over, get a coffee and chat with her but I was compelled to. I really wanted and needed to say hello.

So I did. And shared with her that I hadn't been able to speak to her for the past 11 months. Not until now. She got it. She's still sweet. I wouldn't have expected any less.

I walked out the door with tears in my eyes. But I had to wonder ... perhaps, just perhaps, it was a small sign of healing?