Mismatching socks



As soon as I walked into the medical office two other guys walked in front of me, they were talking fast, in a hurry, and seemed like the nurse was expecting them, so I let them go first as I stood there watching. They told the nurse the two other brothers were bringing the baby in, and soon after that they brought him in on an improvised gurney of folded bed sheets. They were holding front and back .

They brought him in. Walked into a room. And placed him on the table. I had never seen such a fast entrance here before, I always had to sit in the waiting room and wait for my turn, this was way different. Next came grandma walking very slowly holding on to her daughter’s arm. I watched the story unfold and didn’t know yet what was going on.

I looked at grandma and noticed she was wearing mismatched socks and a soft fabric shoes. The pain from that occasion started to emanate and swirl around me, thinking that maybe nobody had the time to help her get dressed? Or nobody paid attention?

The door closed in front of my eyes and the story in my head about the mismatched socks got interrupted  by a short yelp coming from their dog. Among whispers I heard sobbings, still standing frozen in front of their door I then realized that was the last visit their baby had done to the vet. That’s why nobody had the time to plan matching socks.

I grabbed myself from the floor and walked to my car carrying all the pain I had watched. I hate goodbyes.

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