Blank Page

Last night I visited a friend in rehab. She volunteers with my husband at the children's hospital. She had a knee replacement and will be there for two weeks. When we entered the facility, there was a sign in book. Each patient had their own page for their guests to log in and out. As we were looking for the correct page, I noticed that most pages were at least half full with visitor's names. I then came across a blank page. No one had signed in to visit that patient. For some reason, I felt so bad seeing that. The thought of a lonely woman being in a rehab without anyone caring enough to come see her was sad. Maybe her family lived out of state? Maybe she outlived everyone she knew? Maybe no one cared? The last option was the most unsettling. When people are young they say that their life is an open book with a blank page. I guess when people age, they can say the same.