… You are here.
Mom and Grandma hold a newly toddling baby boy’s hand from the entrance to the seat next to me. I stare at him with an intrigued smile. He is beyond chubby, but there is something else about him I can’t name that causes tears to well up in my eyes. Grandma stares back at me so I look away and up at the movie playing on the screen, Pets.
Ten minutes later Mom stands up and screams, “Run, run, my baby is choking!”
Perhaps ironically it was only Mom that ran to the nurses station. No one seemed to know how to handle a choking baby, so doctors and nurses began arriving from several directions with different types of equipment, an oxygen tank and gurney arriving last.
Observing the response time, it seemed an eternity, but in reality, responder’s arrived over the course of fifteen minutes. Many things touched me about the scene, but not all I’ll write about.
It was interesting to me that out of the twenty or so people that came and went, only Mom ran, and though adrenaline filled her senses in those moments, I knew that later she would be filled with gratitude, in that whatever transpired that left her baby without air, did so right then and there.
No one feels as urgently about life as when it seems it might be taken away, and when it’s not, no one feels as grateful for the love they’re allowed to share another day.
So if you’re here and I’m here, may we feel this same gratitude.