Funny, I have been in this same PICU room, so many times now. The same nice nurses, the same cheerful fish decor, and the same el trains passing over the highway. It seems like it is always snowing, and late at night I watch the empty trains passing back and forth, and it seems like this is my real life, and the other well lit happy life where my son is running and playing is just pretend, silly me pretending that one bump, one fall can't change our lives forever, or at least send us back here for awhile. I catch myself holding still, very still, trying to hide from monsters, God I know they are out there so I have to work so much harder to pretend.
It is getting light and the medical students are coming in to admire my beautiful boy, who looks so good it is easy to forget, to pretend that he is normal and will always be okay. I wonder if any of them catch the significance of his name,
They say we can go and we are off as quick as possible, running, paying the man at the parking deck to let us go, twenty dollars to go back to our happy place, our happy pretend place. We will visit again, soon I am sure, and while I am there I will look out the window and contemplate how precarious it all is, and go home and savor sunshine and kisses all the more.
