Mondays
It takes about 10 minutes to walk from Victoria Station to work. Its almost always the same routine, get out of the station, light up a cigarette, and walk down. Now working in a place where I’m allowed to waltz in anytime before 9:30 I’m never sure what time I’m going to get in. So halfway down the walk, I look at my watch to guess how long it will take for me to get in. Monday mornings have never held any real charm for anyone but mine have changed that little bit more now.
Recently, things have slightly changed. It’s the same station I walk from, same route I take, and as before look at the watch halfway down. Only difference now is, before I even look at the watch, I have already gone back to the morning of Monday, 14 November. All I can see is myself standing in the Cardio Unit of the hospital with my mom, watching as nurses and doctors rush around. The same people, the same voices, the same phrases being uttered. I stand and watch as another life slowly slips away.
I remember being taken to the nurse’s office by a doctor, being told they have tried anything but its unlikely he will survive. The doctor leaves and as we are trying to come to terms with what we have been just told, a nurse appears from behind the door, utters the two words everyone dreads and leaves. “I’m Sorry”.
It was exactly that same sort of time on that Monday morning when it all happened. Since then I now dread the walk to work even more as I know that as soon as I look at the watch I know the memories will come rushing back and I shall once again be taken to that place.
They say time is a healer. I can only pray, wait and hope that time will do its part.
It takes about 10 minutes to walk from Victoria Station to work. Its almost always the same routine, get out of the station, light up a cigarette, and walk down. Now working in a place where I’m allowed to waltz in anytime before 9:30 I’m never sure what time I’m going to get in. So halfway down the walk, I look at my watch to guess how long it will take for me to get in. Monday mornings have never held any real charm for anyone but mine have changed that little bit more now.
Recently, things have slightly changed. It’s the same station I walk from, same route I take, and as before look at the watch halfway down. Only difference now is, before I even look at the watch, I have already gone back to the morning of Monday, 14 November. All I can see is myself standing in the Cardio Unit of the hospital with my mom, watching as nurses and doctors rush around. The same people, the same voices, the same phrases being uttered. I stand and watch as another life slowly slips away.
I remember being taken to the nurse’s office by a doctor, being told they have tried anything but its unlikely he will survive. The doctor leaves and as we are trying to come to terms with what we have been just told, a nurse appears from behind the door, utters the two words everyone dreads and leaves. “I’m Sorry”.
It was exactly that same sort of time on that Monday morning when it all happened. Since then I now dread the walk to work even more as I know that as soon as I look at the watch I know the memories will come rushing back and I shall once again be taken to that place.
They say time is a healer. I can only pray, wait and hope that time will do its part.
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