Sandoval Waiting
Sandoval would always tell people he was born waiting. His mother was blessed with a supernatural calmness. When she entered labor with Sandoval she did not get excited. Because she did not get excited she waited a little to long to head into the hospital. Because she did not get excited she stopped on the way to the hospital to pick up groceries for her other children.
Because she stopped for groceries, when she arrived at the hospital Sandoval was ready to be born. The receiving administrator asked how she was. In her calm manner she replied "Fine, but I think my son is ready to be born". The receiving administrator heard "Fine…" and no more. The receiving administrator told her to take a seat in the waiting room. Sandoval was born waiting.
As a child Sandoval demonstrated an unnatural patience coupled with a deliberate observation of the world around him. All through school Sandoval was a B student. Never an A student. Never a C student. Always a B student. In the army Sandoval always scored 85% on any test, never more, never less. He was never the top dog. He was never the bottom dog. He was always near the head of the pack, but never the head of the pack. Sandoval waited and watched his way through life.
He made friends. He went to college. He fell in love. He married. He had children. He divorced. He fell in love again. He remarried. His children had children. He had three careers, not counting his military service. He was a rural electric lineman. He was a deputy sheriff. He was a high school mathematics teacher. Though he waited and watched his way through life he was not spared from life. Sandoval waited and watched his way through all of the strange, messy, beautiful moments of life. He was patient and observant.
Sandoval died of congenital heart failure, the result of a statistically improbable alignment of recessive genes. He had a succession of three heart attacks, each worse then the one before. On Thanksgiving Day in 2004 Sandoval was sitting in his living room, in his favorite chair, watching a football game. His children and grandchildren were there. A little past noon his second wife brought him a bottle of beer. He accepted it graciously, twisted the top off, and leaned back in his chair.
Sitting there leaning back in his lounge chair his eyes widened. They tracked left and then they tracked right. He drew in a deep breath. He smiled slightly. Sandoval, who was born waiting, who waited and watched his way through life, saw everything and then died.
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