A Promised Dance

He sat next to his buddy who was listening to the radio in the lunch room.

His eyes followed me while I walked back and forth to each different hall.

I had a laundry basket balanced on one hip, a stethoscope around my neck, and a medicine book in my free hand. A blood pressure cuff bounced on the medicine book as I walked.

The man next to him motioned me over. “Abby, can you get me some juice? Only when you have time.”

I nodded and looked over at him, “Do you want me to get you juice, too?”

His wrinkled face lit up with a smile, “Nah, I’ll be good.”

I knocked on a door. After hearing a response, I opened the door, and put away clothes in the appropriate drawers.

I walked back to the kitchen. He watched me while I poured juice. His hands fumbled with the oxygen tubes under his nose.

I walked to the nurse station and grabbed my medicine book where I had left it last.

He slowly pushed himself out of his chair and stood to his feet. His tank pumped as he said goodbye to his radio buddy. His walker jerked as he made his way over to my direction.

I stopped halfway to the next hallway and waited for him. He continued making his way slowly to where I was standing.

His body veered a little in my direction and I put my hand on his shoulder to steady him.

He tottered and regained his balance.  

As he did so, he whispered, “Abby. I want to dance with you on your wedding day.”

4 thoughts on “A Promised Dance

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