In 5 minutes

Last year, my brother was in a serious motorcycle accident. He was in the ER for the first few hours. My brother's best friend, my mother, Doug and I all sat in the waiting room holding hands and taking turns seeing him one at a time. Visiting hours were only once an hour for 5 minutes.

The 1 year anniversary of his accident has me thinking, what's in 5 minutes?

When I was in 1st grade, my teacher Miss. Pontiflio was having a hard time keeping us quiet. I can't remember exactly what we were up to but I suppose the normal ruckus a bunch of 6 year-olds cause. She shut off the lights to signal a timeout and told us that we wasted 5 minutes. To make us understand the length of time 5 minutes fills, she made us sit in the dark with our heads down. I remember feeling like 5 minutes was a forever of time.

5 minutes.

It was 4:15pm. I was getting ready for work. My apron spinning in the drier. I left my phone on the steps and walked through the living room. The dogs were sleeping on a small round carpet. I stood in the washroom for a minute thinking about the night ahead of me. The apron was warm and I folded it neatly. As I started up the stairs, Doug said I missed a call from my brother 5 minutes ago. "That was fast. He just left here 20 minutes ago. You listen to it." He picked up the phone and Doug's face turned from its usual charming expression to a deep frown. I knew what this meant. We sat on the stools in the kitchen hugging each other and waiting to hear back.

5 minutes.

3 years ago I was living on my best friend's couch writing poems about old cottages and damaged flowers. I cooked her vegetarian dinners and planned a 6 week road trip. Exactly a week before my departure we went out for wine and tapas. After fully engorging ourselves on manchego and an earthy cabernet, we decided to go dancing.

Her suggestion was a local bar known for it's wet bar smell, large dance floor and underage customers. I fought this in the cab ride but she convinced me with "$1.00 drinks for ladies" before 11pm. It would be our first stop. We walked in, received a stamp and headed to the bar. The dance floor was filled with people 8-9 years younger than us. They were jumping up and down blowing kisses in their cameras.

I was at the bar for 5 minutes when the bartender walked by me and winked. I pretended to think this was cheesy but he was cute. So, when he did it a second time I sorta smiled. He leaned over the bar and I met him half way. Our cheeks bumped and for the next 5 minutes, I waited for him to come back. He asked to call me and I scribbled my name and number on register paper.

I woke up at 6:15am. Michele was still sleeping. I sat staring at the ceiling thinking about the night, my trip and a poem swirled itself around my head. 5 minutes later, a text popped up on my screen. "Hi, Anastasia. This is Doug. I just want to say how nice it was to meet you. You are gorgeous. Here is my number."

5 minutes.

The waiting room was filled. Other families. A woman waiting alone. A homeless man singing oldies. I walked to the window and asked for a pass to see my brother in the ER. "Visiting hours are not for another 5 minutes." I told her that my brother was in Brooklyn visiting me. He was on his way home. The sun was shining and someone hit him on his motorcycle and I didn't know anything about his condition. "Please," I asked, "don't make me wait any longer." The door buzzed open.

5 minutes.

If you are particular about your avocados it can take 5-minutes to pick the right one. Your hands gently pressing into the skin. It shouldn't be too hard; ripe enough that your fingertips can feel the soft green vegetable inside.

If the line at the coffee shop is long, you could be waiting 5 minutes to place your order. You might wait the same amount of time for your hot beverage.

The lines painted on the street probably take 5 minutes to dry.

It takes less than 5 minutes to hit a motorcycle waiting in a toll booth.

5 minutes.

He was laying face-up breathing heavy. I said, hi and he looked me in the eyes. I  held his hands. I kept peering around the curtain for the doctor. I wanted to ask questions. He didn't know much. I told my brother that Anthony, Mom and Doug were in the waiting room. He nodded. A small buzz sounded for visitors to return to the waiting room. I tried to hide behind the curtain but they spotted me and gently guided me back.

5 minutes.

I'm a card person. When Doug and I were first dating I would leave him lots of notes and cards. It wasn't to get anything back but simply to express how wonderfully lucky I felt (feel). After he opened a card left under his pillow, he mentioned he had something planned for me. I told him that this, truly wasn't necessary. A few weeks later, the holidays had arrived. His family flew in from Hawaii and Florida. We drove up from Brooklyn to stay at his parents' house.

It started snowing. He woke me up early Saturday to spend the day together. "But your family is here, really it's okay." We went to a nail salon and I got pampered like never before. On the way home, I held his hand and the snow laced the window-shield.

When we got out of the car, he tugged me inside. I resisted. "Let's take a picture in the snow. It's so beautiful." He was racing me inside and up the stairs. 5 minutes to get from the car to the living room where a fire place was lit. Where he took a box from the mantel. Where I thought it was an earring. Where he bent down on one knee. Where I screamed, "Of Course." Where our families came barging into the room.

5 minutes.

My brother was in ICU for 2 weeks. Little did I know, I was in my first trimester with Rylee. I slept on the train to Harlem a few times a week. I stood next to him watching his breath. The doctors told us he would get worse before better. They didn't tell us his lungs would fill with fluid. They didn't tell us whether he would make it or not would be a question in every single one of my 5 minutes. The thought of losing my brother took up all of these clusters of time. I wanted nothing more than to take him home with me.

5 minutes.

It was earlier than I usually wake up on a Saturday. The train was speeding by underneath our apartment. The sun was heating the bathroom at an abnormally fast rate. I stood over the test and looked in the mirror. It felt like 5 minutes before the digital test read yes.

I creaked into the bedroom and tapped Doug on the shoulders. He buried his head into the pillow with happiness, then sat up to hug me. 

5 minutes.

The bad days felt like really bad days. In my memory it was raining and no one had an umbrella. All of New York City walked around soaking wet, blowing their noses and worried about a brother hooked up to too many monitors.

As a man with lots of bad luck, my brother was a professional fighter. The universe found ways to torment his body with disease, electricity and now an accident. His eyes were closed. I stared at  his heart rate monitor. The nurse told me his heart needed to beat slower but it raced up and up and up. "Don't even think about it. You better fight."
  
5 minutes x two weeks.

The days piled up into weeks. The amount of tubes entering my brother's body started to decrease. He made his way into the Physical Therapy wing. This is where I told him he would be an Uncle. This is where he learned to walk again. It's where we made fun of Mom and of each other again. It's where I mocked him for being all tied up and unable to squeeze my knuckles or punch me in the ribs.

We shared a sandwich and he said, "that baby is the reason I made it."

***

That's it for now. My heart is big and beating with gratitude for the love that exists in my life.

Hug as many people as possible,
A