Another day at the Doctor’s office, another slice of humanity. Another day for observing the great lives that pass through the door.
Awkwardness melted away as the chairs filled up. Patients were forced to sit next to a stranger. And then, one person leaned over to the next and said something. It didn’t matter what, because the forbidden veil had been torn. People started interacting, sharing, making eye contact.
Different races, ages, experiences, and life choices poured out in a flood. Vietnam vet was next to long distance trucker. An elderly woman sat next to twenty-something woman. A bicyclist with torn ACL (or ALC) talked to the sixty-something man who sported a graying ponytail and a Padres baseball cap.
Everyone was there to see the doctor for some reason involving pain or illness. Some were clearly in wrenching pain, but relating the events of the accidents helped them endure the waiting.
What was I doing, you may ask. I was the one who leaned over to the person next to me, and started it all. After that, my journal was open as I wrote, interspersed with conversation.
Just needed to get the ball rolling.