Family Practice

The clinic we go to was started 
decades ago by two doctors who recently 
passed away. But their children continue 
to run it, and most of the staff are 
Filipino. One of the nurses always 
recognizes my voice when I call. One 
asks for my opinion about schools when 
her son is applying for college. And another 
always begins to hum under her breath as soon 
as she rests her fingers on my wrists to take 
my pulse. The lab technician is so swift
and skilled: she knows exactly where 
to stick the needle for a blood draw.
The humming nurse comes back in with 
a paper robe. I start to undress when she 
leaves the room, but I can still hear some 
of the notes she repeats, drifting up 
and down and up and down the valley 
of some old tenderness or memory.