Dear Mom in the Waiting Room.

A beautiful read…

Dear Mom in the Waiting Room,

I didn’t see you at first. What I noticed as we walked in was a young, laughing girl spinning around with a stuffed animal at the end of her outstretched arms. She had that kind of pure laugh that made me smile just hearing it.

We were there for an ultrasound. Not a major procedure, but my son had major stress. My son is autistic, and has a boatload of medical trauma from his years in an orphanage. Add those together, and hospitals don’t end up high on our list. My son didn’t even notice the spinning, laughing girl.

I sat my nervous son down on the couch, gave him his iPad, and went to fill up his water bottle. (“Have him drink lots of water for an hour, and don’t let him pee,” they told us.  Yeah, okay. We had peed 4 times since the parking garage.)

The waiting room…

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About Anne Lane

A long time ago I dreamed about being a writer. I was seven. I wrote my first short story about a loved family horse which died. I began writing poetry for family members, including one for my grandfather who passed away suddenly when I was eight. I read it at his funeral. Since those many moons ago, I continued to write for myself; songs, journals, poems, essays. My writing was filled with thoughts and musings constantly shifting from dark and angry to whimsical and romantic, to wonderings about the world: life, death, love, spirituality, pain, family. My blog doesn't have a specific theme...it is a work in progress. I suppose my aim is to have a play with writing, get my thoughts, ideas and feeling out there and explore the world, people and thoughts. I hope I make you feel, think, laugh, cry and spur you on to peel your onion.
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