December 5th (Now)

The names and faces change. The ailments vary in range and intensity. One case differs from the next. There is a constant in the whole equation though. The cycle of patients in and out of the clinic continues uninterrupted. This is true most days of the year. Most days that is besides the 5th of December. One early day in the calendar's latest month, the office takes a collective break.

The receptionists that have been with Leslie the longest know not to schedule any appointments for this particular morning. When they arrive, there will be hot chocolate and cider waiting for them in the lunch room. Breakfast will be provided. With hunger sated and beverages still in hand, they'll gather together in the lobby. In their absence, a tree has been erected. From the storage closet, Leslie has pulled the clinic's collection of lights, ornaments, and Christmas decorations. Three hours is all it takes to transform the space into a sparkling sight.

The staff doesn't understood. Why the 5th? They ask each year. Each year, the inquiry goes unanswered.

The truth?

She prefers to celebrate her birthday preparing for the arrival of another.

December 5th (Then)

Life in the pursuit of service. Her father had laughed out loud. No attempt was made to hide his bemusement. When he realized she was serious, it mutated into anger. No daughter of his was going to throw away promises of a profitable life. Leslie Thompkins was his little girl. She could have had anything she wanted. But medical school?! Why?!

"So you can waste your time on those who can't pay for your services? Leslie. Think about it."

She did. She thought about it out of respect for her father. Her mind once it was made however would not be dissuaded. Her father in turn respected her desire. The East Side Clinic was born half a decade later. Patients trickled in and bills accumulated at an alarming rate. Her determination dwindled. Finances darkened. She told no one at first, determined to find the elusive solution herself. She could go to others in the medical community. Charitable foundations. Her family. Friends. She didn't.

Had her father been right? Had her overabundance of idealism overshadowed her good sense? Would the dream die before it rose to its full potential? After months of deliberation, she recognized not idealism but pride would be her downfall.

She sought funding, anyway and every way she could.

Five years later, the clinic blossoms under the care of the Wayne Foundation. No other present can compare. Now or then.

She's readying to leave for the night when an unfamiliar visitor arrives.