For months, I hated the waiting room. I dreaded stepping into the ICU room to see wires and tubes invading your fourteen-year-old body, your shaved head held together by a row of staples.
Sitting in the sterile room with nothing to do, I held your limp hand and watched monitors with numbers falling, rising.
Then you woke up…over weeks, months. Not quickly, like in the movies.
Years later, you don’t understand why I hold you so tight. But I’m still stuck in that room you don’t remember, the room I can’t forget. I’m still waiting, wondering if you will live.
The ending works on so many levels. Great writing.
Touching story. Loved it!
Very powerful. Love the opening, and the phrase at the end “that room you don’t remember, the room I can’t forget” was really effective
Agree with Lauren – “that room you don’t remember, the room I can’t forget” – brilliant!
Such beautiful language. This brings back so many memories. My son wasn’t 14, he was a newborn. He was born almost three months early and I can remember holding my tiny son, or watching him in the incubator, hanging on every blip on those monitors.