A White Hallway

She was sitting on a bench in a white hallway,
a few feet from her room.

She was a hunched over, reading a novel,
slippers touching the floor.

I approached her with intent to surprise,
quietly, gently, despite my size.

“Is this seat taken?” I asked politely.

She did not look up. I did not move.

“May I sit next to you?” I asked.

She lifted her head and glanced at me,
but said nothing.

“May I sit next to you?” I repeated.

She looked up a second time and glared at me
for ten seconds, or maybe it was nine.

“What do you want!” she sternly asked.

“Mom, it’s me,” I said. “It’s me, your son.”

For a moment she looked confused, and then
began to shake.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed.

She smiled. I smiled. She tried to stand up but
could not on her own.

I offered her my arm. She stood and hugged me
as a mom.

I was happy. I was sad.

Recognition is a wonderful thing.

-

© Randall Snyder