Just Dust In The Wind

Dusty winds rattle through the curtains in a room of a decrepit hospital just south of the city. Fluttering against the plant on the nearby nightstand, it began to irritate the old man in the bed adjacent to the window. A heart rate monitor sings it’s song, a rather annoying sound that bothers him. Sighing dejectedly, he glances at the cellphone on the tray beside him. He is waiting, waiting for a call from the nurses alerting him of good news. It has been hours since she arrived at the hospital in the dead of the night and his shaken son-in-law rang him up on the phone.

“He is coming.” he whispered into the receiver.

He tried to convince the nurses to let him be with his daughter. She needs him to be with her. The nurses figured that it wasn’t the best ideas for him to be up and moving from his bed.

“Take a kip, eat a biscuit.” the nurse with the short brown hair tells him, “It will all be over before you know it.”

There was no way he could relax. How could he with all that was going on. Here he was, trapped and useless in his stupid hospital bed, IVs running up his arm and air tubes flowing into his nose. This isn’t how a father is supposed to be on a day like this. He is should be holding her hand, wiping away her tears and being there through it all. Useless is only the beginning of how he feels.

This is how it is most of the time. Being confined to a hospital has done nasty things to his self-confidence. No matter how many times the doctors tell him he isn’t, he knows deep down inside he is absolutely powerless, inadequate and it leaves him feeling utterly humiliated. Life has taken a turn for the worst in the past few months. All the nurses whisper about him when they think he isn’t listening.

Suddenly, his son-in-law rushes through the doorway, his hair unkempt and eyes tired, yet filled with something the old man hasn't felt in ages. His smile beamed with of pride and joy.

“It's a boy,” he announces, “7 pounds, 3 ounces. He may be tiny but he is strong. Gave Cora quite the fight.”

“Can I...” he begins to get up and remove the bedspread.

“No, don't get up. The nurse is bringing him in right now for you to see. They don't want you moving around too much, Pops.”

His heart fell a bit, but nothing could bring him down from seeing his very first grandson.

An older nurse walks in soon with a small, blue bundle swaddled in her arms. He could see just the hint of pink skin showing near the top. His son-in-law takes the baby from the nurse and she hastily leaves the room with the mere nod of her head. Sitting up only a little bit, the old man motions to hold the baby, if only for a couple of seconds. Arms shaking, from the effort it takes to hold them out, his grandson is carefully lowered into them.

He has to be lighter than a loaf of bread, yet he is so developed and precious. His eyes are delicate pools of light, brimming with curiosity, youth, and innocence. The old man looks into them where they echo his own sad eyes without willing a single word.

"Hello, little Milo." he whispers tenderly to the now crying bundle. "Hush now, don't you cry. I'll be right here to protect you."

Carefully, he takes the baby's hand in his and holds it securely, but gently. Humming an Elvis song, he begins to sway his arms to the beat and sing a quiet lullaby.

"I can't help, falling in love with you..."

His voice is dry and scratchy, nothing at all like Elvis', yet somehow, Milo stops crying and drifts off into a deep slumber, his chest slowly rising and falling slightly.

"I think I'll take Milo here if that's okay with you, Pops." the son-in-law stoops over the bed and lifts the baby up close to his chest.

"You need some sleep just as much as he does. I'll make sure Cora comes to see you first thing in the morning."

He nods silently and watched the two exit and slumps back on to the pillow as soon as they are gone from view. Sure they would visit him in the morning, but that would be the extent of it. They have a life to run, people to see, places to go. No one has time for a sick old man on his last days. Two days from now they will leave the hospital and Milo will start his life in the great big world, so helpless and dependent on his mom and dad. Glancing at the nurse alert button on his necklace, he realizes the baby and him are not all that different. Neither can really exist without the aid of another human being constantly watching over them. Both of their food consists usually of a paste that leaves an unpleasant aftertaste lingering deep within the mouth. It seems so ridiculous to even think someone's whose life had just begun can be similar to one who could see the end at night.

Thoughts of dying often anger him and create an uneasy mood within him. Why did he have to be so let down about his time being up? His life has been plentiful and has come round to a complete circle, one that began and ended with him surrounded by weeping loved ones that were circled around a bed. With most of his friends and older family already long gone, he now has a chance that maybe, just maybe, he might see them again. He thinks of Helen, his darling, sweet Helen. Oh, how he misses her sweet caresses and alluring kisses.

"You don’t have to be in this much pain," a soft voice taunts in his head, "Go my dear, old friend. Come with me and you may see her again."

At the end of his bed, there she is, just as he remembered. Shimmering, silver hair pulled into a messy bun with stray hairs dangling into her dazzling green eyes that are filled with happiness and a hint of mischievousness. A simple brown dress and an apron tied around her waist, she is there, all of her just waiting for him, just as she said she would be.

"Oh come on you, goon." she playfully teases in a honey-sweet voice.

Arms open wide, beckoning for him to come to her, he carefully swings his leg from under the blankets. Not knowing if his legs will support all his weight, the first few steps are shaky and unsure; however, they surprise him by being strong and stable. It is a miracle. He runs to her, and buries his face in her shoulder. All the pain from the last few years slips away as he silently sobs. Together they disappear into darkness as they lock together in an eternal embrace, separated for so long but finally together at last.

Outside, the winds come to a rest as the light of the dawn reaches through the sky. The plant no longer rustles against the window and the heart rate monitor no longer sings its usual, steady song. Instead, it rings a shrill cry that would soon alert those nearby. The air inside the room brims with sorrow and loss, but none were to worry anymore. Yes, one life has been lost, but a life had also been lived.

Down the hall in another hospital room, two small eyelids will soon open yet again as light pours through the window. One journey may have ended in the hospital, but another will begin. Oh what a journey it will be.

Andrea Dillon