Waiting...

You know what's creepy about waiting rooms - you can smell the stale fear and anxiety. Doesn't matter how much they clean, re-upholster or make the room seem "warm and inviting"; you can still feel the lack of oxygen in the air from people holding their breath and the fear of the "what if".

Before she went into surgery, Sarah told me she wasn't afraid of dying, she was more afraid of waking up with an 8-10 inch scar on her chest that reminded her of how close she'd come. Made me ponder if I'd be as calm...

Yesterday was the 13 year anniversary of this beautiful girl's death


I often wonder what she'd be doing, where she'd be, if she would have gotten married or made me an aunt by now. While the pain is still there, it doesn't hurt as bad and the memories are happy and comforting.

Tears, fears, questions, unknowns, prayers, restless napping...

And then the door opens and the person you most want to see walks through the door and tells you everything is fine and air refills the room and the elephant sitting on your chest walks away.

That's what else waiting rooms smell like - hope and relief...