Topic started on 19-3-2011 @ 05:58 PM by darrman
The Waiting Room
Is this a Lie? A convenient story a small child creates to deal with the truth about being adopted? Or could this really be a memory? My earliest
memory, I’ve carried with me, from before I could talk, to today, as I misspell the words- THESE words I form, as I handwrite this text—is of the
The formless fog flows around the “kids” in an unending area as far as my mind can see. Some other kids like myself are on pedestals above the
other “babies”, of roman looking marble that is bleached white, shiny, in fact, yet it is somehow felt to be ancient and timeless. There is a
coiled excitement in the gathered souls, awaiting to go through the birthing process and many overheard conversations are ostensibly about; “what
are you going to be”? and of course, the answers are as diverse as life itself, Doctors, lawyers,
Teachers, Leaders, Farmers, Etc. One child near me clearly was proud of his chosen purpose in his life experience, as he cheered, “I get to save a
Myself upon a pedestal, I clearly answer “I’m wanting to do all of your tasks” I announce to anyone looking up at me. “I want to taste all the
types of chores and careers in one lifetime” so I proudly say, “I’m going to be an Actor!” The assembled beings around my feet gave a throng
of approval! I smile and wave to the crowd, accepting the heartfelt good cheer that was abundant enough for all.
As I choose to re-play this memory, so I can relate it into word form, I remember one more important event that happened just prior to finding myself
in the waiting room – it was the pre-view interview. All the babies assembled had gone through an interview by some Entity in a small private area
where I would go through and choose the type and style of life I could have, and explore options that would change the duration of earth time alive,
the continent I would live on, and the ease or difficulty of the challenges I would face in this personalized itinerary of exploration into humanity
“There are no choices that are bad choices” the old man seated behind the glowing tabletop said pleasantly, as he must have said, to many
hundreds of billions of babies before me. “What do you want to do in life?” I remember seeing the display of the road map of my life, coming
into view, as my presence of sitting across the glowing table from the old man caused a greenish 3-D image to rise up from the now actively projecting
I recall feeling cautious concern. I felt as if choosing the wrong path could waste my turn at a lifetime, but the patient old man gave me the
confidence to overcome not choosing anything. There was THAT option, the “quick-pick” or random “surprise me” button, but I felt that, this
life needed wiser planning.
As I made choices about where and when I wanted to live, the display offered other options such as ; status in society, wealth, family structure,
children, physical make-up, religion, education, careers, experiences, and loves. As I choose from my preferences, I could go back and rethink
choices to make the end result my MOST preferred end result, and the old man seamed to explain fully to my satisfaction, options, choices and needs
for this, my lifetime, and he even gave off a comforting way of making me believe he was pleased and impressed with my life-map. As we rose to say
goodbye, the displayed 3-D image shrank back into the tabletop surface, entering all my choices into the “system”. His final words to me were
stolen by some other baby, some time ago and printed inside Chinese fortune cookies by the millions- but this was the first time I heard it. “May
you live in interesting times!”
Scant minutes after my birth, I was on a rolling gurney looking up at the bright hall lights as someone hurriedly moved me down the hallway past a
large window and into a warm room. The women, who were there, touched me, held me and talked to me, gave me comfort but wouldn’t confirm my
incessant questionings of my surroundings. “Are you my mommy?”
I kept thinking about the assorted females I came into contact with over and over, and every time a new woman would pick me up and love on me, that
question would return. One woman in particular gave me my first lesson in life. The largest human, I had ever seen, stood before me, her dark skin
absorbed my gaze. I had never seen one like this, until now. Her eyes smiled big and bright and the largeness of her form caused a slight worry in
my infant mind, but when she picked me up, her voice, her warmth, her sounds, gave me the most comfort I had ever felt until now, but yet I knew she
wasn’t MY mommy, still, the breast she offered me gave me my first sense of pure joy as I hungered for more life out of this human, and felt
satisfied my world was just right. Even something that may be scary at first can turn out to be beautiful!
I woke up some time later and saw movement around the room.
“We must be brothers!” I could hear from the baby next to me. No, we could not “talk” yet, but we still had a residue of communication
left-over from how we “talked” in the waiting room. “Yeah?” I said surprised, as I moved to see the fuzzy headed, boy, laying in the bed
next to me. “well my Mommy feeds you, so we must be brothers” he explained. I felt his acceptance and his willingness to call me his brother but
I tried to clarify our relationship, just for the record. “Well I don’t have a mommy yet” I said. “You don’t?” he wondered aloud,
“That’s funny. Weren’t you with me in the waiting room?” he asked, his memory of the waiting room must be starting to fade, because I did see
him there, he was right near me, and so was his real brother, but as I understood it his brother was only going to be on earth for a very short time
and he proudly told us all his only purpose in life, as short as it would be, Was to help save ONE baby- one soul- from dying. As he told the
collection of babies about his plan his smile shined across the infinity of the waiting room. I had not realized the possibility that I, could have
been, that child. “So, what are you going to be” I asked to change the subject. He just looked at me and started crying. I have no true
knowledge of what is causing his pain, but I could hazard a guess. He was going to be lonely. Many times his mother would come and feed us, one
after another- and many times, I was first.
Many days, the children would come and go, in and out, like some kind of changing of the guards’ procession. I was by far the oldest of all of
them I realized at one point, and started wondering if somehow my life-plan got derailed by one of my choices in the interview session. But talking to
the other babies and seeing the fathers coming to look at their offspring through the large glass window, took up a lot of my day, and I never felt
lonely. I thought to myself I would use this time to work on my acting skills, so I acted out, patiently waiting for Mommy.
There came a day-(tears welling up in my eyes as I write this) - Two men came to the window and pointed at me. I was awake and noticed them looking
directly at me. One of the older nurses picked me up and brought me to the window, so I could get a better look at them, as they got a better look at
“I know that’s not a Mommy “I thought, as I studied the face of the first man. He had olive skin and dark eyes that to me looked tired, yet
FULL of life. The other was definitely not a Mommy. He didn’t even look like a daddy. He had slight graying hair and deep crevices in his face
that got deeper, as his smiled formed. His dark eyes shined a fountain of love, unsurpassed by any of the other humans I’ve met, even those who
offered their life-blood breasts, to me. “WOW!” “This is new” I noticed, pleased with the different start to my 30th day alive.
I was placed on a gurney well fed and warm. I could see the lights of the hallway above me capturing my gaze as I was propelled down the hallway, for
the second time in my life, and brought to an area, where nothing happened. I could see a brownish yellow curtain filling my eyes in front of me, and
for some reason, as if my life we’re on a T.V. game show, I chose to have whatever, whoever, was behind curtain # 1. The curtain had some kind of
movement caused by the air as something or someone, approached. I blinked, as the sound of the curtain slid to my left and a woman appeared.
Let me describe this very clearly. A set of eyes on any human, have a pattern that can be read by others, and the field of energy that surrounds all
of our bodies, can be felt and understood by many human’s intuitive empathy. So, as the curtain moved aside and a person came around the hanging
partition that stood between me and my destiny, it became clear. “That’s MY Mommy” I knew, as she ravenously scooped me up with liquid
glistening eyes that reviled one single word, to me, “Mine!” and she held me tight to her. I couldn’t see her anymore as my face was on her
chest, but I could feel her. “I’m home, at last!”
The next few minutes felt like a whirlwind of people looking at me. Their faces, eyes, souls, inspecting me, for my looks and flaws, “their wanting
to get to know me”, I thought. The words “genetically perfect” were said by someone out of sight, but the assembled group of my patron saints
only cared that I was alive and healthy. Good looking was just a contented gratuity.
My Mommy carried me around the room, gently handing me off to her mother. “I’m your Bubbie” she proudly told me, as she grabbed my right hand
and gave my fist a kiss. “Oh!” I thought “I’m going to like her”. This blonde-haired, blue-eyed, smiling woman who radiates a selfless
shower of peace, a spring of unfiltered approval, and gusher of acceptance, became instantly the main source of my lifelong supply of unconditional
love. My BUBBIE! My LOVE!
My daddy was next to hold me, his nose was so big! Or was he just, smelling me? His eyes were so dark. I looked into them to read his life-plan and
I could see many things. Confidence was the outer layer, the first shell that everyone sees. In-fact his tenacity, seamed to exude from his very
soul. He also grabbed at my fist, and made “munching” sounds as my hand was placed to his lips. “mummy-nummy- nummy-mummy” I could hear, and
I laughed because it tickled me somewhere inside and everyone around the room loudly exclaimed a cheer of surprise at hearing my laugh for the first
“Wow! That’s kool” I noted to myself. “My laugh makes people happy.” “That’s a great talent for an actor!” Magnanimous from the
start, I gave the crowd a few more giggles just to enjoy the response.
The older, graying, but still black-haired man, smiled with deep crevasses as he got his chance to pick me up at the height of me ‘working the
room’ . Bubbie was the first to introduce me to this man. “That’s your Zadie!” I heard her say.
Zadie, I stored the name, held me carefully but expertly, as he looked into my eyes. “Look at you!” he happily and proudly said as he lovingly
swung me around, in his joy of beholding his first grandson. Quickly I became overwhelmed by an acrid smell of smoke, I believed, I couldn’t have
known what a cigar was, but once exposed, it is unmistakable. The motion of his large face and the light from the just noticed sunshine coming
through the window to the sky, gave me a chance to test out a theory. “Whaa wah whaaHH?” I tried out, on the crowd, mimicking the expression
I’ve heard all day-all night for the first 30 days of my life in the nursery, and quickly Zadie gave me back to my mommy. “uup, there you go”
Zadie said, resigned to always love me, but more than happy to pass me off before I could cause him embarrassment or the extra ridicule, from a quick
to parody, Bubbie.
Mommy got me back, and sat down in a chair cupping me in her arm and kissing my fist and forehead. I was so pleased to know that this one is my
Mommy, I quietly accepted her love, and closed my eyes. I was tired, and for the first time, I felt like I was in the right place, at the right
moment. For both of us!