Just My Reflection In A Window


Good luck… Two words from an E.R. nurse, from the other side of the phone. It’s all I needed to hear and I knew how this trip would end… I walk through the house waiting for Mr. Cottage to arrive, so this is what an empty house sounds like, the gentle hum of  the refrigerater and the heater. If I listen really hard I can hear the rain hitting the gutter. So many memories reside in this house. My steps so loud as I pace through the living room for the hundredth time. Heart Failure, Kidneys shutting down the list goes on… They are calling for snow tomorrow.

I watch my reflection in the cold glass of the giant mirror like window 8 stories above the ground. Nurses huddle around the frail frame in the hospital bed. The frail frame that blood and memories tie me so tightly to. The family has all been called, several family members are looking for flights.

Familiar voices and unfamiliar voices echo through this room. So quiet as we all deal with what is happening in our own way. I scribble on a napkin, as a friend updates my uncle and his wife. Mr. Cottage grabs a few peanut butter cookies from the box, and the wrapper crinkles and then all is silent again. A friend asks us to tell Grandma she loves her. My cousin says she will take us home so Mr. Cottage can stay with Mrs. Cottage at the hospital. Faith greets us at the door. Dogs are such amazing creatures. The house seems so big, so quiet.

So many people are praying for a miracle. But I can’t help but wonder, what does a miracle look like? Mrs. Cottage told me this morning that after we left last night she was holding Grandma’s hand. Grandma was staring off into space above Mrs. Cottage’s head and she whispered “pretty” when she asked her what was pretty she simply said in her horse voice “angel”. And again I wonder did those prayers get an answer? Just not in the way those that said them thought?

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