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(Page 2 of 2) Tomorrow by Jim Washburn
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"I'm at least as impatient as you for tomorrow, but we just have to wait." He sat down.
"Your right, I'm sorry" She smiled at him, almost laughing because he looked so much like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Dear, please hand me Bubba's picture?" He rose and retrieved the cat's photo from the dresser. She looked at it for a long time.
"It will be wonderful to watch TV with him lying on my lap sleeping and purring at the same time. How he does that I'll never know." She almost petted the picture drifting in pleasant memories.
"Is he still sleeping in my chair?" She asked.
He laughed out loud. "Oh yes, but he seems a lot more active now, like he knows that you and he will soon be together. He hardly gives me the time of day, unless it is time to eat." That brought another happy sigh from her and she held the photo tight.
Another memory intruded on his already whirling mind.
"Well he is seventeen years old Mr. Harken. We've done everything possible, but he is just worn out. I think you know this too." The vet said. The man within this memory just nodded. A few painless/painful moments then the memory man was carrying home a wrapped bundle, interring it in the disheveled garden as the fall leaves fell from the trees.
"I need a drink of water!" He said, fleeing for a few minutes to drink and regain what composure he could. The nurse glanced at him trying to determine what was happening.
"Oh, you startled me dear. I'm feeling somewhat tired and was going to take a short nap. Why don't you go home and come get me tomorrow?" Her eyes were drooping.
"That's ok; I'll just sit here with you for a while my love." He held her hand again, and gave her a big smile.
"This has been such a wonderful day, though tomorrow will be better. But today is a day of excitement and expectation, almost like Christmas Eve." She said though her voice was growing quieter. He said nothing.
She drifted off to sleep, he held her hand. Bubba's picture tumbled to the floor with a clatter, neither noticed. The clock ticked loudly, the hospital seemed utterly still. Her breathing grew shallow, then shallower still, he held her hand tightly.
After a time it was over. He laid the hand on her now quiet chest and went to the door. With a nod to the nurse he walked away from too familiar room and the smile finally fled from his face.
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