CITY ISLAND LINES
Betty sighed as she gingerly cinched the Velcro strap under her chin and then sagged back into her pillows. As the salesman had instructed her, she started a review of the day’s events. She knew she needed to write down any important information before deciding to press the green button.
The bright spot in her day was definitely the sweet young lady at the coffee shop. She had really looked at Betty and listened when Betty spoke. Her warm expression seemed to say, ‘I may not know the depths through which you are going, but I know you are going through some deep things. I hear you. I see you.’ Yes, this young lady really had ‘seen’ Betty, and that’s what made the recollection so precious. Most people looked straight through Betty. Even if they heard her speaking, they didn’t really listen to what she was saying. For instance, the doctor this morning. After he said something about Betty’s blood pressure readings, he looked balefully through her. Betty didn’t know if he was disappointed in her or merely had indigestion. Either way, she felt as though she was no more than a shadow on the wall, as the doctor swiveled back to his computer screen and began furiously clacking away at the keyboard. Then there was the mortifying exchange at the pharmacy, where they had reorganised the aisles. Betty had to ask an irritable woman where the incontinence supplies were now housed. As if that wasn’t painful enough, the woman, without looking up from her mobile phone loudly barked, ‘ are the adult diapers for YOU?’ Betty wanted to melt into the floor, although the floor already looked so filthy that it seemed like a bad idea. On her way home, relieved to have ticked off the items on her ‘to-do’ list, Betty felt the tension loosening slightly, as she waited patiently for the traffic light to change. Unfortunately, she must have momentarily closed her eyes, because the next thing she knew a red-faced motorist behind her was hammering his horn and yelling at her. Her right foot frantically sought the accelerator and propelled her car toward home. Now she sat slumped in bed and looked over at the green button. She fiddled with the chinstrap again and shifted some of the cables behind her head. This ‘NightCap’ contraption had been a gift from her son. He thought it would help her to sleep better. She’d never been a great sleeper, and this had only gotten worse with age. She found the Medusa like wires on her head a little awkward, but she had to admit that after erasing the day's worries, she had been sleeping more soundly. Again, she eyed the green button. Above it, in clear bold letters was the manufacturer’s slogan: ‘Tomorrow is a new day!’ She thought about how amazing it had felt to really be ‘seen’ today – albeit fleetingly. A smile reflexively lifted her lips, but the day’s darker moments quickly elbowed this memory aside, and her expression crumpled. As always, she hesitated momentarily. Then, as always, she pressed the green button. 13 Aug 2019
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