Observed, Overheard in the Hallway
Three People
written by: Joan Leotta
The Old Woman (Adelia) in the Doorway of Room 503
“Where did that aide go? She rolled me into the doorway but then left instead of taking me down the elevator to dinner. A woman is walking toward me—she’s wearing a brooch like the one I used to have and has pink ribbons in her hair. When I was young, I wore pink ribbons and put them on my daughter. They streamed out behind us as I played with her and ran about in the field next to our house. Now I have to be rolled everywhere in this damned chair.” I frown at this girl in front of my chair. All today’s faces are unknowns; no one loves me in this place. “Where is my daughter today?”
The Woman Who Walks Down the Hall to Greet Her
I had to turn away for a minute before answering. It’s difficult to see her as she is now, especially when her eyes are hard and mean. Those gray eyes used to look at me with such love! Her mouth today is just a thin line smeared with dark lipstick hastily applied by an aide. Before, her mouth was always open in a wide smile, speaking loving words, smiling as I recounted my day. I can feel anger, fear radiating from her. I try to lean in to kiss her, but she looks away. I try to get her to look at the brooch. “You gave this to me. I’m your daughter. Mama, I’m here to go to dinner with you because I love you.”
What the Floor Nurse Observes
It’s my job, after the dining room rings bell, to walk the halls, to be sure everyone has someone to help them go down to dinner. I hear the young woman, Adelia’s regular visitor, her daughter, ask, “May I wheel you down to the dining room?”
“My daughter is supposed to meet me for supper,” the old woman growls. The young woman moves to the back of the wheelchair and begins to propel the chair and occupant slowly ahead.
“Didn’t you hear me? Stop! My daughter is coming!” The old woman reaches back, tries to slap the young girl’s hand.
The woman stops, moves around to the front of the chair, kneels, leans in so their faces are close. The young woman touches the brooch she is wearing. Speaking through tears, she says, “Mama, I am your daughter. See, this is the brooch you gave me. It was yours.”
The girl opens the gold oval at her neck, revealing two photos. “Here—you and papa. On the other side, you and me.” The old woman stares at the girl, touches the brooch, and begins to cry as well.
Tears are not part of my official duties. I tear up, glad to see Adelia recognize the true, real love of her daughter and to be a witness to this moment of joy.
- Observed, Overheard in the Hallway - April 9, 2026
- Sounds that Interrupt the Still of Night - September 13, 2025
- Clearing Shadows - March 16, 2025
