I watch. I watch old fingers and withered thoughts die in cleansed hospital rooms under white sheets and baby blue gowns. I watch the trumpet breaths and boa grasps from their want and inability to realize what They want, exactly. They. I watch They. I watch They who can only look out a spider webbed window and see a sliver of grass or a blade of grass. They who can blink away little rainbow drops instead of tears. Yes. I watch They. They and their faded eyes and rough skin and powdery skin and droopy cheeks that don’t smile. Smile. Smile for me and for me alone. Just once. I watch when They reach for their flowers or coffee mug or plastic cup of pudding. The strength, the power one movement can produce. I watch the energy move through their soapy smelling arms to the vase or the mug or that plastic pudding cup. Pudding is such a simple food. They really do deserve more than pudding. But Thedoesnt’t know that.
I watch Them too. Them who walk in with blue shirts and white shoes and a grin on their face that says, “We are so happy you are sill here!” I watch Them use dry erase markers on the stained blue white board and I watch them finger the drawings and the post card and get well soon cards and we love you cards and happy birthday cards that Them have seen day in and day out. I watch Them fly in with stale cookies and pudding, again. I watch them pile away dirty Kleenex into plastic baggies. I watch Them fix the plastic tube that connects to the plastic bag. I watch Them walk down checker board hallways to yet another plastic room. Plastic has many smells to Them. Lonliness. Love. Envy. Childness. Care. Thoughfulness. Some days I watch Them with bad news. I watch Them hesitate with numbered buttons. I watch Them wonder why Them have the job of saying, “No, im sorry, yes, it is an unfortunate turn of events.” I watch Them clutter around vending machines and bubble gum bowls and fish tanks and gift shops and counters and parking lots. I watch them take off their blue shirts and white shoes. I watch them put on their blue shirts and white shoes. I watch them open and close doors day in and day out.
Then I watch Others. Others with Mary-Jane shoes or sprinkled dresses or pink lollipop bows in their hair. I watch Others skip into the checker board hallway and touch everything in sight. The lamps, the chairs, the windows, the signs, the flowers, to counters, and even the people. I watch Others carry in boxes of chocolate or a basket with flower petals or a new stuffed animal. Others tend to like to hold They’s hand. I watch as Others will open up their arms as wide as their arms can go and gently fall onto They. I watch Others sit on the white sheets of the bed and swing their legs off the edge. I watch Others as their hands reach for another piece of candy. Others never minds coming to see They. Even on sad days, Others always come. I watch Others as they hold onto They’s hands. I watch how Others is always happy to come but sad to go. I watch Others smile and sing songs and play games with They. Others don’t always know how much They loves Others. And Thedoesnt’t always know how much Others loves They, I watch how Them knows. Them like seeing Others because Them know it makes They happy.