It's been an interesting week. With the co-ordinator out due to a death in her family, I have been working in her place. Being outside the house every day has given me a different set of problems to solve. I really enjoyed working this week. Apparently I had a case of cabin fever, and I needed to get out of the house. I've been out of the house enough now that I don't even mind the snow we are expecting this weekend. I wasn't able to enjoy too much, the 60 degree weather we had for 2 days. I did get out in it for a few minutes to smoke a cigarette or two, but being in the office from 8 to 4 kind of limited my enjoyment. There will be more days ahead so I don't mind.

I was all caught up with my work shortly after 3 today and stepped outside to smoke when I saw something rather curious. A young girl, age undetermined, was walking home from school I assume. She had books anyway, so I'm thinking they were schoolbooks. She wasn't very tall, a little on the plump side, and it would have been time for the junior high to have been let out. She had what appeared to be a white bandage on her forehead, a lollypop clenched between her teeth. NO coat, pants rolled up to her knees, and she was barefoot. It was 27 degrees outside and she was walking on ice. I stared open mouthed for a bit and then asked myself "Could she be on Ecstasy?"

I don't know why I thought that. I know that ecstacy causes grinding of the teeth or chattering of the teeth, which is why users usually have a binky in their mouth. I also know that it can cause a user to feel excessively warm. Why else would she be walking barefoot down the center of the street in 27 degree weather? The lollypop in her mouth was not removed and licked, just left there and it was not bobbing up and down even though she was moving along at a fairly rapid pace. She had long hair that bounced up and down with each step. The coworker I was smoking with had a great deal to say about kids these days but I remained silent. I just kept trying to find another reason besides Ecstasy that would account for what I saw.

If she was coming from school, and if she was using Ecstasy then she would have gotten it in school, and that bothers me. I have a granddaughter who is that age, and too many kids still think that Ecstasy is harmless. How long before my granddaughter meets the kind of kids who use this drug, and decides to try it? I read somewhere that 80% of the influence that sways a teenager will come from their peers. Parents aren't there to remind them of what is expected of them and all that is necessary is the idea that they won't find out. For some, it's the knowledge that their parents won't believe that they would do this kind of thing. There is a part of me that knows drugs are readily available in school, it's an intellectual knowledge, not one that stirs any emotion. That changed today when I saw what I believe to be a young girl that may have been high on Ecstasy on a Friday afternoon shortly after the school bell rang.

When I went to the hospital to see Dad on Monday, the aides were helping him with something so I had to stand outside and put on the gown and gloves. It isn't really an isolation room he's in, just a private room. Outside his room there is a red tool cart, similar to those that Hubby has from Sears. It has 3 drawers with gowns in them and 3 boxes of latex exam gloves in different sizes. As I was waiting I had glanced into a similar room across the hall where I saw the elderly lady sleeping in her geri-chair. Older people sleeping in chairs usually do so with their mouths wide open, her's was closed and she had a smile on her face. Her head was tilted towards the side and chin was down, but you could still see the smile. As I stood there trying not to stare, she lifted her head, opened her eyes briefly and widened her arms. It was as if she saw someone that she was preparing to hug.

I thought to myself..."she's dying" and began to feel a peculiar sensation. Rather like being wrapped in something silent and peaceful. The noise from all the TV's in all the rooms diminished, and colors became sharper. Oddly I thought.."her eyes are blue." I couldn't see her eyes from where I stood, but I knew they were blue. I don't know how long I stood there staring, as if transfixed, by the idea of blue eyes dying. I only know she was content. Her eyes closed again, her head sunk down and the spell was broken. I felt a need to describe her journey although I am unfamiliar with her or where she's going. I wanted to see what it was she saw. I wanted to know. I am not sure what I wanted to know or why, just that I wanted to know.

Yesterday she was no longer there. The room stood empty and waiting for it's next patient. I would have asked what happened to her except that no one would have told me. No hospital staff gives out information on patient status anymore, unless your are known immediate family. I asked Dad if he saw anyone come and take her home. You can't always see the room across the hall, if he was in bed or the door closed partly his view would be blocked so I expected not to get an answer. Still, out of curiosity I asked. He said they had a "code" sometime during the night. He thought it was in room 219, which would be her room, but he was too tired to pay any attention and he went back to sleep. When he asked why I wanted to know I told him that I had seen her in there Monday night and I thought she looked familiar. I didn't, under the circumstances, want to mention my experience. I don't know why, but he's not inclined to be comfortable with those types of discussions. I suppose when you are this near it, it isn't quite as interesting, unless you're like the unknown lady who seemed to be welcoming it.

When I arrived home from the hospital last night I couldn't wait to sit down and write. The Finish Line wrote itself. It flowed from me the way any of my other posts do. There was no thinking about what would rhyme with this word, whether I had the right musical rhythm for the next line, whether I was making sense. It simply flowed and the only editing I did was to check for typos. Typos love me. I have to scrutinize every line for typos. The poem was the first thing I've typed without a single typo. Strange, very strange.

I won't be able to see if I can get any information out of anyone because Dad came home from the hospital today. I planned to go directly to the hospital from work and something made me come home first instead. Hubby was here and relayed the message that my stepmom had taken Dad home today. I would have gone up there and not found him if I had stuck to my original plan. I think that would have bothered me, expecting to find him there only to have him gone would have caused me a few uncomfortable moments. Dad's not ready to cross the bridge yet, I hope that when it's his time he experiences as much joy as my blue eyed lady did. I believe she's gone, and I believe she was ready. I also believe she really did have blue eyes.