I was sitting there on a plastic looking chair. The floor squeaked whenever I moved my feet that were surrounded by 7 dollar K-mart sneakers. My skin was a little pale & no cosmetics were applied to my face yet. My hair was quickly pulled back and looked really messy. I was wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday: a flowery Forever21 top & a greenish pair of pants. This is what we call post-sleepover.
I was sitting there waiting for my Dad to come and pick me up.
I tried to observe my surroundings. All the people, the emotion, the pain.
The little girl eating a cookie together with her grandmother. The girl's mother sitting next to them; tears in her eyes.
The young couple: a blonde woman and a tall, skinny man. A baby between the two. I could see the smile; we are parents!
The father with his 3 year old son, his son is a cancer patient. These moments together are more special than for most people.
The mother with her 3 kids. Screaming and crying: "I don't want to go to the doctor! No mom!" Checkups aren't the easiest thing. I was a pain.
The family obviously missing a member, waiting and praying. Will the missing one be okay?
The lost foreign person who does not know where to go. Wandering around, not understanding the language, getting worried about her appointment.
And then there was me. Sitting in the hospital because I met up here with my Dad. Observing people like a creeper.
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