The Waiting Room

Imagine being born almost a hundred years ago! the little girl in our waiting room stage whispered to her mother, That's reaaally old! The mother blushed and grabbed the child's arm, apologizing at length to the old woman the little girl had been pointing to and embarrassed almost to the point of tears. Other patients began to laugh quietly and the old woman smiled. It is reaaally old, she assured the mother with a passable imitation of the little girl's tone, and it's quite all right for her to say so.


To the very young and the very old, we give an extra measure of freedom of speech. The one has lived long enough to earn the right to say exactly what they think and the other hasn't yet learned to think before they speak. Both are naturally honest and we give them a great deal of latitude. To those of us still in the middle, still counting to ten before we lose our tempers, still choosing our words in order not to hurt someone's feelings, still keeping a lot of what we really think to ourselves, it's enviable to watch the old and young being free with their thoughts and words.


Can you take your teeth out? the little girl asked curiously and the old woman threw back her head and laughed outloud. I can, indeed, she admitted with pride, but I try not to in public. The child cocked her head and frowned, Why not? she demanded and the old woman shook her head, still laughing, Honestly, I don't know why not. The mother, now in a paralysis of shame, hid her face in her hands while the other patients joined in the laughter. The waiting room door opened and a nurse called the old woman's name - the mother took her child's hand and fled to the safety of the outside hall while the old lady struggled to feet, took a firm grip on her walker and headed toward the exam rooms. She was indeed, ancient - face powder exaggerated her wrinkles and there were traces of it on her collar. Bright spots of rouge lit up each cheek and her red lipstick was crookedly smeared on. She looked like a crone but as she passed me I smelled lavender water and had an instant image of my grandmother. She looked me directly in the eyes and told me good morning in a clear, strong voice then gave me a smile. Her eyes were a watery blue and slightly cloudy but her voice was bright and unhesitating, Children, she remarked, have certainly changed since I was a girl. I nodded and she paused then said, For the better, don't you think. I nodded again and she turned away, step by shuffling step, trailing the nurse and humming to herself.

Wisdom may come with age, but kindness is a choice.