Hospital Whispers

by Mona Lisa Safai

When I seven-years-old, I tagged along with my mother to see her patients in the hospital. One patient, a little girl, slept quietly in her room. When we walked out, my mother whispered that she had a disease that didn’t let her grow anymore. Usually, I went to the conference room and drew pictures of people with smiley faces on the chalkboard. This time, in waiting room, I stared at my feet. Why wouldn’t my feet touch the ground?

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Mona Lisa Safai is a writer, poet, and book reviewer in San Francisco.