Continual, rhythmic beeping,
Grownups draped in snow-colored robes,
And I,
Lying on a cold, metal stretcher
With tubes affixed to my tiny frame.
As I regain consciousness, everything hits me with a jolt.
Where is my mom?
It seems just minutes ago that I nestled in her arms
Only to be snatched into a stranger’s care –
Proceeding swiftly down the hallway
Still reaching for her embrace.
The distance between us increasing until
Her image disappears from sight.
And I,
Remaining panic-stricken for the present.

Steadying myself into a sitting position,
I beckon a woman clad in milk white
To find me a familiar face.
With a smile she parts the heavy double doors
Where my mother stands with arms outstretched,
As the sun streams in and radiates the room.