Freedom Waiting

Carson climbed the four flights of steps to get to the waiting room. He stepped in and took the first remaining seat he saw, which, luckily, was at the back of the room. The chairs weren't the typical waiting room seats. They were more like seats on an airplane, only more comfortable. Carson was so tired that the second his jeans made contact with the cushion, he lay his head in his lap to try to relax and catch a quick wink.

A few seats to the right, a raucous stirred up. To Carson's uncaring ears, it simply sounded as though some younger people had begun dancing, having a good time and laughing. A woman, clad in her Sunday's finest, even though it was a Tuesday, with magnificent earrings in her ears to really show her wealth, scooted her chair away from the crowd of people. At the screech of her chair's legs on the linoleum, Carson lifted his head and glanced over to observe her moment of discomfort. She clung her wallet tight to her breast and looked about the room for another empty seat. Two rows in front of her, a man in his mid-forties, wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, did nearly the exact same thing. Carson had taken the last chair upon entering, which made him chuckle slightly to himself. Both their faces filled with dismay when they saw no way to distance themselves. They looked momentarily like the idea of abandoning their appointments altogether was the best option.

One of the kids from the group scoffed a little and said, "White people." Another from the group hit the speaker on the arm and shook his head as if to say that's not the problem. They stopped dancing, settled down and became silent. Right after, they all turned and began exiting the waiting room.

The last one to walk through the doorway stopped and turned back to the room full of people waiting and said, "Have fun! Act free, at least."

This young man, dark skinned, with a strong African accent, and wearing ironed khakis and a turquoise polo, spoke the words with such sympathy and earnest, Carson was immediately overcome with a chill. Here he was, waiting in a room for an appointment with all these other people, in a country that was supposed to be free. Yet they were all so concerned with their own behaviors and actions, that they all sat in silence because that's what society has made them believe to be appropriate. No speaking what's in their minds, no dancing freely when hit by a sudden urge to wiggle about. Everybody has been taught to refrain from letting loose out of fear of upsetting or offending somebody else. At that moment, Carson jumped from his chair and chased after the young man. He wanted to tell him how meaningful his words were, but he couldn't be found anywhere.

Carson returned to the waiting room and sat back down in his abandoned seat. For the next ten minutes or so, he thought silently of all the crazy things happening around the globe. The attempts to remove all things offensive, to eradicate racism and hate, but instead, he felt that it almost seemed more like society was redirecting whom the racism and hate is pointed to. The lack of belief in leaders, in scientists, and in each other.

Carson thought, "We truly are living as though we are no longer allowed to have fun, and if we do let loose, we have to be conscious of the consequences. It's unjust, and downright makes one feel as though they're no longer free."

He stood from his seat and repeated the words to the room, "Act free, at least."

He wanted the words to have the same meaning to everybody else as they did to him. Nobody stirred. He sat back down and fell asleep until his name was called.