Sweet Dreams

I woke up at 6:30. It's foggy outside but the fog is burning off.

Now it's about 8:30. I've been reliving the past (aka memoir-writing) the past couple of hours. I've had two cups of coffee and an English Muffin with raspberry jam.

I'm still very weak and cannot stand up without bracing myself with my arms. Walking remains an ordeal.

***

When in the hospital I could hardly sleep at night. The night nurses woke me every two hours or so to take my vital signs, give me shots or pills. One night, the nurse was a tall beautiful woman with long blond hair. She said she was from Latvia and spoke with a distinct accent. I believe she said her name was Maria, which may have been a made-up name. She was in her late 30s, I'd say.

She came into my room and leaned against the wall to chat. The night nurses often did this. They knew I'd be awake and that I love company, especially in the dark. Maria told me she's always been restless, moving from place to place, starting with a trip to Moscow when she was very young. She said that while she was happy to have reached San Francisco, now she was here she wanted to leave soon and keep traveling.

She said finding new jobs is easy if you are a nurse.

I glanced over at her and immediately wished I were younger. She was un-self consciously graceful in her manner. I wondered if I was dreaming, as my constant state those nights was sleep-waking. But she remained nearby, leaning against the wall as I lay in discomfort in my bed.

As she told me her story, I found myself imagIning traveling with her.

I told her the only thought I could muster, that I hoped she would one day find happiness -- the most elusive place of all. Her shift ended at 7:30 and I never saw her again.

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