My granddaughters got their flu shots today. I sat in the waiting room waiting until the ordeal was over. Time spent in waiting rooms is fascinating. I've never been too bothered by it. This adventure in observation, in humanity, causes the book in front of me to sit there unread.
Two men about my age sat across from me. The wife of one of the men came out from the office and walked over to them. Her husband reached over putting his hand on his old friends shoulder letting it rest there. "I found an old banker," he informed her. An old friend. It was obvious from this gentle gesture.
I remember my dad reaching out patting a male friend on the back. Men who were not demonstrative to other men, those men of an older generation, even old farmers had their ways of showing affection, companionship. I sat smiling at these men who had history together.
Time in a waiting room makes for good writing along with a smile or two.