HOSPITALS.

Today was spent napping on waiting-room couches, watching family come and leave, and seeing my dad in a bed under bad artificial lighting.

Hospitals, ah.

The light breeze comes from the brisk walking of nurses carting around patients, and families jogging to catch up.

Hospitals.

Watch the TV. Watch the IV. What the man. The man who is a patient.

Dad is not a patient. He is just dad. Never was a boy, or a bachelor, or a patient. Not in my eyes. He is the guy who goes to work, comes home and asks me "How was school, Vaness?", tells me to do better, tells me I can be whatever I want as long as I'm good at it, and the guy who makes us all eat healthy and encourages us to work out.

But Dad. You'se a crazy man.

He's getting better, thank God. Out tomorrow.

Hospitals....ahh.