Waiting For The Phone Call

by Lester L Weil

The bees are buzzing in the mesquite trees and mourning doves call in the canyon. The sounds of summer in the desert.

I am sitting on my patio in the shade of a large mesquite. Memories of my sister from the long ago flood my mind. On the farm. Exploring dad’s blacksmith shop. Walking together the three miles to the one room schoolhouse. She teased me until I was big enough to tease her. A plaintive β€œMom. He’s teasing me.”Proudly posing in her nurse’s cap and cape. Smiling. She is always smiling.

I am waiting for the phone call.

* * *

In the stark light of the ICU with the hum and beeping of machines, my sister lies surrounded by her children. They await the arrival of the doctor. It is time to turn off the machines.

There has been a steady physical and mental decline, and she hasn’t really been here for a long while. My visits were hard because I was not sure she really knew who I was. The smile vacant.

I went yesterday to say goodbye. It was hard reconciling the person on the bed with the sister of my memory. A tube replaced her smile. There was no expression.

It is long past the appointed time. Have they changed their minds? They had struggled to finally make the decision.

The phone rings.

β€œShe’s gone.”

* * *

I am sitting on my patio. Memories of my sister from the long ago flood my mind. Bees buzz in the mesquite trees. Mourning doves call in the canyon.


Lester L Weil

Published Doorknobs & Bodypaint #77 2015

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