Saturday, February 20, 2016

The Pharmacist

     She's a different kind of salesperson but one of the best I've ever met. Her message comes across clearly, the moment you lay eyes on her.
     It's my turn now, she says, without opening her mouth.
     When I realized how far away my sisters were from me that day at Walter Reed, I wanted her to do the talking for me, while I listened.
     Her number is still in my phone, but it was too late to explain.
     So I thought about her attitude instead, how she seems to know what she's talking about...all the time, no matter where we lived...Japan, Texas or North Carolina.
     I went deeper and thought about us worshiping the same God but in different ways, that she's like my Sunday School friends, minus the Jesus parts. We believe in the same things.
     Our families celebrated the holidays together instead of acting all weird and avoiding each other in December. It was cool. We had Christmas and Hanukkah with our kids.
     She acts like another sister, sometimes, telling me what NOT to do in a bossy way that only sisters and best friends can do.
      I needed her there to make sure I really did take my medicine, which would only happen if I asked the right questions and wasn't afraid.
     She would somehow make the pharmacist answer her questions, instead of the other way around.
     I knew she could do it without even revealing her ace in the hole. They would see the outside of her and give her any information she wanted.
     If there was a mistake, however, something left out that I needed to know about, she would realize, and then make the pharmacist explain.
     She is fluent in the language; it was her college major.