Writer in the Forest

Chapter 21 

Once again I was trudging down the big empty cathedral-like halls to meet Mom up on the 4th floor where they put her after doing time for eight hours in ER. That night, I laid my hands upon her head and prayed right out loud. Maybe I had the power, who knew? Who is to say where the human dimension leaves off and something divine kicks in.  I’ll put it this way: I dredged up any power I could find and used it. I prayed to all the gods, knowing no one would hear me because I don’t believe anymore. I was on my own.

There was a lot of waiting. I held her hands. I looked out the window at the gravel and asphalt “garden” someone thought was a capital idea for a hospital rooftop, and hoped she wouldn’t die in these surroundings.

I closed my eyes and leaned my face against the glass. I imagined myself floating in the cool shade, the tall timbers standing guard.

I asked my ancestors for guidance. Am I supposed to be here when it happens? Can I make that happen? Will I go crazy from grief?

I opened my eyes as raindrops ran down both sides of the glass, my reflection and I looking at each other, searching for answers.