So, what was it about my standing on line at our local bank? I mean, how do people gravitate towards me? That's what I'd wondered many times in the past. However, this gravitational landing was just as weird, if not weirder than the ones before it.
Here I was, still in my orange running shorts, and running shoes, as I couldn't remember what time our bank indoor operations with real people closed it's doors. I finished a late run, which was supposed to be my morning run.
Everything, including sleeping nearly three hours more than I'd expected, got in my way of timeliness for a Monday. How much editing and re-writing was I going to get done, now? I wondered, as I stripped off my two tank top shirts and toweled my upper body from the unusual amounts of sweat for a mid October run; as records highs had been predicted for the week, and so they were.
Soon with two long sleeved shirts on, still wearing my running shorts and sneakers, I stood in line at the bank. I'd gotten there with an hour to spare. I saw the traffic held up on my way there as both sides were jam-packed. I reminded myself to take the extra three mile drive to avoid it as I'd head back home; to be able to clean up and get to the vet, the optician, and a quick foodstore stop for kitchen sponges; which always turns into three more items than the one you'd written down two days ago on the back of an envelope.
The wait seemed long at first, as there were at least two managers/VPs scurrying around in the bank. Another manager was behind the counter as was another VP who handled other customers.
All familiar faces were present. I thanked one who'd helped me the week before on the phone. I got her to smile, seemingly relax a bit. She was grateful for the compliment as she stated to me. I could see they were stressed. One of their scanners was down. It had been that way for nearly a week. I stood in line as I thought, '...when the hec am I going to get three chapters of editing done today? Starting a new screenplay? Yeah right'. As that thought crossed my mind the bank calmed down, and now only one person arrived waiting behind me, with one in front of me.
I commented to the woman who'd arrived just behind me, "Everyone is wearing autumn colored clothing today. And it's what?"
The woman a tad older than I replied, "Eighty degrees. Tomorrow it's also going to be hotter."
I added, "Yeah."
Funny enough, I cannot for the life of me know what brought us to the next conversation. However, it must've been necessary for somebody at that moment.
She remarked, "...Well, I'm a nurse." Then I knew she probably knew people I knew in the medical field. I named a few names, she knew all of them. Then she asked how I knew them. I told her they'd send me their pain patients and the like. And that I'd closed that business of nearly thirty years and started a writing business which I'd been slowly working on since age seven, now just 62.
It had been Covid and my husband's illness and subsequent death which threw me into writing all day and night while I'd finish raising our children. I wanted to be home for our children and pets as I'd now devoted myself to the aloneness of that, writing forever and fixing things around our home.
Before I knew it she asked how my husband died. I explained there was no hope and it was a sudden occurrence of an advanced form of cancer. One month he got a clean bill of health like usual, as he exercised, ate well and was still in the workforce. And then all of a sudden he was at death's door.
She then explained that her husband had survived a similar area of cancer. Yet it was not in the advanced form that plagued my husband. She explained everything they did on him which evidently saved his life.
She repeated a few things about his extended life, procedures and such. My mind wondered as to why I was hearing this. And to what capacity was I to understand her message. Or was it her need to talk to someone who'd listen intently and not walk away, nor judge her? For I do understand nurses. As many of them, withhold much of their grievances while helping others. Its a selfless act on their part.
After that conversation, which all had become so encompassing in my thoughts, all that day and into the next day.
I then questioned my own bewilderment. Was it my own hurt? Was it hers? Was I being too sensitive? Was I sensitive enough for her? What would I say to her upon my departure?
As those thoughts passed, we were both called about the same time to different areas of the counter at the bank. I was greeted by a friendly, yet stressed face. I kidded her, as I knew she needed a little distraction. She smiled and reciprocated pleasantries back to me. I giggled as I many times am self-deprecating to elevate the mood in the air. Soon, the transaction was over. The nurse was still with another banker at the end of the counter. I said 'thank you and goodbye in Chinese as I parted from my area. And then spoke English wishing the nurse well as I passed her by as she was seated. ---Jody-Lynn Reicher
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