Whispers in the Waiting Room

Sandra, a keen observer, scanned the Waiting Room. Everyone was done with their nightly tasks. They waited for the transition, each lost in their thoughts. Sandra rarely saw anyone familiar here, but today, a hunch told her someone she knew was nearby.

Her search landed on a tall young man, Ira, talking quietly to a young boy, Ricky. Sandra recognized Ira, her coworker, by his long hair and calming voice. The boy, a client, surprised her. Sandra had never met a client in the Waiting Room before.

A shift in temperature signaled an exit. Someone left, leaving a grain of sand – their symbol of completion. Sandra, feeling ready, watched as the room slowly emptied. Each person added their sand to a growing pile.

Ira's hushed words reached Sandra. He reassured Ricky, "You'll be okay. You're safe." Ricky, voice trembling, replied, "I'm safe. Ricky's safe." Ira's soothing voice continued, "Yes, Ricky's safe. It's almost time to go home."

"I don't want to," protested Ricky.

Ira crouched to meet Ricky's gaze. "You can't stay, Ricky. Your family would miss you."

"Mom is sad," Ricky mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. "I make her sad."

"It's okay," Ira comforted him. "Everyone feels sad sometimes, but your mom loves you."

"Ricky loves Mom," the boy whispered, finally looking up at Ira. This eye contact surprised Sandra, a rare occurrence in the Waiting Room.

"But Ricky can't talk to Mom at home," Ricky explained sadly.

"You're learning," Ira encouraged him. "I hear you say hello when she picks you up."

"True," Ricky agreed, "and to Dad. But I like it here better. I can talk. But I never see Mom and Dad here. I don't know where they go at night."

Ira patted Ricky's head gently. "They go home too, Ricky. So you can see them and the people you love most."

The elevator doors opened. Ira, not noticing Sandra, focused on Ricky. "Time to go," he said matter-of-factly.

Ricky hesitated. Ira used sign language to prompt him to stand up.

Ricky, now almost as tall as Ira, stood. They shared a nod before stepping into the elevator. Ricky, reaching for reassurance, held out his hand. Ira, while never initiating physical contact, accepted it. They descended in silence, a silent connection formed. Sandra smiled, hopeful that she would remember this moment.

Ira had a unique connection with Ricky. Unlike other mentors who built walls, Ira saw Ricky as an individual, not just a diagnosis. This mutual respect fueled their progress. Ricky, driven by a desire to connect, spoke more and showed less frustration.

Seeing the pile of sand, Sandra realized it resembled the biblical manna, sustaining them on their journeys. It filled them physically and emotionally.

Back home, Sandra stretched, startling her cat. She rubbed the sand from her eyes, the memory of the night fading. Still, a flicker of hope remained. She wanted to remember Ricky's bravery and Ira's compassion.

As she dressed, Sandra wished she could tell Ira about their touching interaction. But she knew, by morning, the memory would be gone for both of them.

Determined to observe them again, Sandra left for work, a new purpose fueling her day.