Parking garages, security guards, a welcome desk, long hallways, multiple elevators, dozens of strangers, a nurses’ desk, and a door.  There are barriers to visiting someone in the hospital. 

You never know what condition the person will be in.  Happy, sad, sleeping, contagious (what about the person next door?), grateful. 

How long do you stay?  What words are right?  Should you be the optimist?  Realist?  Hopeful, but honest?  Inquisitive?  But haven’t they shared the story a dozen times.  Can you just sit with someone?

Is the visit even necessary?  Yes. 

Despite the inhospitable air flowing through the walls, opening the door matters.

Beyond the door, I lay alone in my sickness.  Though never expecting it, my soul longs for the door to open.  To see my friends, to hear familiar voices.  Your presence says more than your words. 

[originally conceived 07/25]