The sunlight touches everything and gives it a warm embrace. The air has a perfumed scent and the seats are plush. Every surface is dustless. All the polished metal shimmer as to demand your touch. You walk to the seats and sit. The impact of your rear is completely absorbed by the light green cushions. The second phase of sitting down is almost as pleasant as the first. Your back falls into the padded chair. The chair fits you perfectly, you were made for each other in the heavens. The nurses are nonchalant and they move with a serene purposefulness from room to room on their rounds. There are vases of colourful flowers and framed pieces of art on the walls. In the corridor is a burping water dispenser and in most rooms you can hear the noise of a television.
After a while, the horizontal lines of blended colours are all you can comprehend. The occasional pause of a doctor answering a query from a lost guest attracts your attention and you are drawn. The exact words spoken are beyond you since your mind is full of its own words; work, time, food, responsibility, care, school and on. The sanitised, spilt tea free, table possesses a few too many magazines. The glossiness of the all the covers reflects the sunlight onto a no-longer empty wall, filling it with reason and purpose. You flick through the books thoughtlessly, aimlessly looking back at the previous magazines.
An appealing voice calls out a name, it is yours. You are comfortable where you are, everything is fine. To stand makes no sense. Why step into unpredictable darkness masked by promises and pamphlets? Yet you begin to leave the grasp of the chair, the chair trying its absolute hardest not to let go. You fight it. You are up. There, you hear the voice again; it comes from the other side of the hall. A stampede of doctors, nurses and patients block the ever-growing distance from the voice.
The first steps are always the hardest, if only that was true. Every step you take becomes more difficult than the last. The sunlight becomes harsh on your eyes. The sounds that didn’t concern you become noisier. The sweat dripping down your forehead collects at the tip of your nose. You have all the time to wipe it but you don’t. Silence, only broken by the inevitable droplet of anxiety that falls and shatters, hitting the ground.
Your vision returns, the contrasts dimming down. The constant tears. The uninterrupted beeps. The endless crying. The perpetual cheers. No longer constant. Time stops and starts without hesitation. You doubt your understanding of the present and it has become futile to try. Your senses are returning to normal, but not completely. The softest cry you have ever heard resonates around you. There, in her arms, nature’s product of true love. Perfection is a rare sighting for most men who live on earth, yet you, you have perfection in front of you.
The subtlest of breezes comes in through the gap in the window, which sweeps and carries your pains away. The calm whistle of the wind clears your mind, as the first laugh of your child paints a new image in your once troubled mind. Your face reflected on theirs. A more vibrant you, a more caring you, a more loving you. You stare at this precious little angel. Your hands quiver as you slowly reach down to touch their little fingers and feel the softness of their skin. You run the tips of your fingers gently across their smooth face. You fall in love.
You regain all your senses, but they are different. You find the burping water dispenser meditating. You appreciate the sun illuminating the room, you can see clearly. You are happy.
React!