I visited my mom in the hospital today. There were two names written on the whiteboard outside what I had been told was her room. Neither of the names were hers. So I lingered for a second, shrugged and started to walk in. A cute blonde girl inside smiled at me while brushing her teeth and I blurted something like “ha men her-” and quickly turned around and walked back out. I silently cursed whiteboards and my father and tried to text him, then called him, then heard my moms voice on the other side of the curtain in the room and walked back in relieved, and slightly embarrassed.

My mom introduced me to her “roommate.” Her name was (is) Jamie. (How many Jamies will I meet in one life time? Probably the same number as Katies that I will fall stupidly in L-) Upon hearing that my name was (is) David, she made a high pitched noise and said that David was (is) her very favorite name. I replied with “oh, nice…”

My mom was in high spirits. The pain was gone and there were five ladybugs hanging out on her window. She also spotted an eagle outside, tried once, twice to sit up and see it, then with a sigh of defeat said “oh well, I’ve seen eagles before.”

On the way out I took the elevator down with an older woman, and a Hispanic guy wearing Family Guy pajama pants. She mumbled inanely about door close buttons before exiting on the second floor. At this point I wanted to say something to my remaining elevator-mate about people’s need to fill the silence on elevator rides with strangers, but realized how ironic (stupid) making said comment would be. Hospitals are weird. Their parking spots never seem to be big enough. People are already worried about their loved ones, they shouldn’t have to be worried about dinging other cars.