Ashley+M+HA

The walls are cold and dry and the room has a view to the ocean. It is quiet until visiting time, when concerned friends and relatives flood the halls with chatter, flowers and noisy children. Nurses are in and out to check blood pressure and temperatures and I'm glad that I'm only a part of the visiting throng.

An old guy sharing poppa's room, calls me over to his bed. He reaches down into the little cupboard beside his bed and pulls out a unique, black radio from when he was young. I take it and examine it to distinguish what it is. It must be worth a fortune. I turn the radio on. The local radio station crackles into life and staticky music breaks the silence. He tells me that he has had this radio since he was a boy. I tell him it's great and I hand it back to him. He tells me that I can keep it. I think he knows that he doesn't have long to live.

I feel a little sad for him and sorry to think that he mightn't have long to live. I take the radio because it is so important to hiim for me to take it.

A few weeks later I was told this guy passed away.

The radio sits next to my bed now. I don't use it often, but I don't want to throw it away. It is special because of how special it was to my old mate.