Hospitals bother some of you because of memories tied to sickness death and/or loss. Emotions arise that hurt. Scare. I have never had that feeling while walking the endless corridors or watching the scrubs and white coats traverse the halls. I have no qualms about hospital food, save maybe the the size of the portions; surely the food on a plane, or school lunchroom, has been far worse than what I have ever experienced in a hospital cafeteria.
Perhaps the fact that my very first memory of life involves a hospital in a positive circumstance has a lot to do with my openness to visiting them to this day. I was two years and two months old when my brother, Byron, was born. I have no independent memories of life without him. Funny, I paused after writing that last sentence because when I think about him there is always an inner sense of closeness I feel--even though we are by no means "close" as I think people define the word. However, we certainly are not estranged either. In the moment it took me to write out that explanatory sentence, multiple childhood flashes of Byron zipped through my head: sniffing a raisin up his nose; sharing a bedroom with bunk beds; building ships with legos; play fighting that always got too physical and he would yell for mom; cutting each others' hair in the garage... Things I don't normally think about. :-)
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The daily jazz of my mind, as pure & honest as possible; but know that words are themselves filters of the original thought/idea.
