It was a different kind of storm while my mother was in the hospital.

I stayed there with her over several days while we waited for information from the doctors.

Those few days felt like years.

She was anxious at times.The stillness of the evenings brought it out and she woke often,  wanting to talk with me about her worries. I was in a hospital lounge chair beside her bed for the duration of her stay. It had been suggested that I stay in her house and makes trips to the hospital during visiting hours. The thought of doing that was incomprehensible to me.

The storm at the hospital was centered around not knowing what was coming,  as much as it was about the sounds of footsteps, conversations and equipment being wheeled back and forth in the hallway.

The quiet moments were rare.The quiet moments were powerful.