Going Down Memory Lane

Sineas' legs were now aching. He had walked for at least two-and-a-half hours now. His legs threatened to buckle under his weight. His tiring journey had finally brought him to his destination. It still looked like the American Whitehouse to him. Even despite having grown taller, the building still looked gigantic. The white, thick pillars, the plush green lawn just inside the ten-foot barbed wire fence, the windows, everything still looked identical. He wondered the same about his mother. The only thing he thought may had been changed was the Breechwood Asylum sign. He did not remember it having a "welcome to".

He headed straight for the gate. There was a small security booth just to his left. 'Good morning,' he greeted the seventy to eighty year old guard. The guard startled to his feet spilling his coffee all over his khaki shorts.

'Darn it, Man!' he yelped before he snatched a newspaper to wipe off the liquid. 'What you want?' he asked Sineas not bothering to look at him but continuing to wipe his shorts.

'I'm here to see Priscilla Murphy,' he said.

The guard finally looked at him. He had a short grey beard with strands of white here and there. His eyebrows were of the same colour. His face was festered with puny, brown pimples and his mouth looked as dry and parched as the Sahara. He placed a finger and thumb on his chin. 'You Murphy's kid?' he asked.

Sineas looked around him thinking the guard was addressing someone else. 'Yes, yes I am,' he answered.

The guard chuckled. 'You may not remember me, sport, but I was actually here when they brought your mama in. What was it; nine, ten..?'

'Eleven years ago.'

'That's right, that's right, lad; eleven years ago. I was sitting in this same chair when they brought her in.'

Sineas tried to say something but was not sure what. He did not come prepared for this kind of conversation.

'Sorry, lad, the name's Geoffrey. Geoffrey Saunders.' The old guard's eyes sparkled as he advanced towards Sineas, almost tripping on his empty cup of coffee.

'Sineas Murphy,' he responded as the guard wrestled his arm vigorously. He almost felt like a celebrity now. The kind of musician only old people listen to.

'Good, good, good, lad!' he walked back into his booth. He grabbed a giant file from behind his chair and began to flip through the pages. Sineas thought Geoffrey was a bit too energetic for a man of his age.

Geoffrey finally paused on a page. He looked at Sineas then the book then back at Sineas again. He said, 'I know it's standard procedure to record every visit at Breechwood but…' he smiled slyly at him. He nodded in the direction of the building. 'Go see your mama, lad.'

Sineas gave him a half smile then he placed his hands in his pockets. 'Thank you, Geoffrey.'

'No, please; call me Jeff,' he said waving his hands at Sineas.

Sineas shrugged then began walking towards the building, 'Sure, Jeff.'

Sineas took his time on the brick path. To his right there were many benches in a line which stretched as far as the eye can see. Patients were sitting on the lawn, others playing, or trying to play checkers, yo-yoing their heads back and forth. Others were humming incessantly, looking at nothing. All of them were dressed in white, including the nurses. Most of the patients and nurses were black but only because Breechwood was a black neighbourhood. To his left, was another fence and inside the fence was the parking lot for the patients' visitors and the doctors and nurses.

After a slow, sixty-second walk, he finally made it to the steps of the entrance. The doors were the largest of any building he had seen. Made of what looked like thick glass, they also had thick metal frames. The doors were at least three times his height. With a little effort, he managed to push one of them open.

The interior looked very much like your average hospital except it was more spacious. Sineas felt like he had just stepped into an airport…for the sick. It had that familiar hospital smell, the one that made you even more sick but at the same time, made you feel taken care of. To the right of the entrance were numerous benches neatly arranged against the wall where patients sat, some alone and others in straitjackets with their nurses at their side. The scene looked straight out of a sci-fi movie. Just a few yards in front of him, two patients were sitting on the floor, their arms wrapped around their knees rocking back and forth sitting side-by-side as a female nurse was on her knee, gently stroking their backs. She seemed to be trying to calm them down as they continued to hurl threats at no one in particular. One passed right in front of Sineas, chanting expired spells at everyone in his path.

The male nurses, on the other hand, were standing by the walls right where the long line of benches ended. Their rock-hard frowns and physiques made them look like security guards for an important political figure. It seemed the female nurses were needed to attend to the emotional needs of the patients whilst the male nurses, standing close by, were needed for restraining patients that could start behaving violently in an erratic manner.

He immediately began to feel a little uncomfortable…out of place. To his left were more benches lined against the wall. Here sat more patients, nurses and the visitors. He saw one nurse carefully trying to explain the condition of the patient to what looked like the patient's mother. Further past these benches was a long corridor which stretched further than he could see. A sign by the wall indicated the corridor led to the dining hall.

His eyes continued to search. Straight ahead was another long corridor which probably led to the rooms of the patients. This one was darker and he could see nurses and doctors get lost inside its deep obscurity. Just beside the entrance into the corridor was a small booth with a very tiny window and above was the sign, "Reception- please stand in a straight line and wait your turn to be attended to". Sineas could not see a line anywhere. Either most of the visitors had left already or the patients rarely had visitors at all.

He thought of his mother. What if she chased him away? What if she did not even remember him? Would he blame her, after having never seen her for so long? He thought of going back. His knees shook, reminding him that he had come way too far to turn back now. He looked straight ahead and made his way towards the receptionist's booth.