Hearing the sterile words echo in the cold and yellowing hallway among strangers who were otherwise sickly and broken was beyond what my experiences of "surreal" could ever have possibly been. There were carts whizzing about, phones ringing and the chattering voices that didn't make sense had soon grown louder and more chaotic. They were filled with a noncholant tune, a news caster's airy smile while passing out volumes of depression and chaos. Equally of note were the expressionless people racing and zipping with their clip boards. I closed my eyes tight and realized that they actually smelled of dead carnations, the ones that had been tossed aside after a fine Sunday sermon in my grandmother's church while she stood at the sink washing out the silver communion cups.  I opened my eyes and took in more of the grotesque and fragmented scenery. Crisp Clorox white uniformity, every one of them, and those ridiculous robin's egg blue booties that covered their expensive shoes. I saw them sliding by, room after room, in and out, checking off their lists and repeating the same exact procedure, over and over and over once again. My legs were numb. My arms cold. My insides felt mostly like a hollow tomb filled with dead space. I knew the voices in my head shouldn't be right. They were my mother's words. "Stop crying," she said. She was not in the room, not in this moment, but I felt her piercing glare. The one that told me to button my upper lip and be a brave soldier. And so I did. I stopped crying as my body lay confined to a gurney in the middle of the hallway, my eyes limp, my breath stiff, and my heart tucked down to a depth that I had not yet known, all while watching the rat race of this thing we call "Life goes on".

     I had slept outside in the tent the night before with my son and a friend's daughter. It was her birthday and her mom had to work so the best laid plan was to have her with us to share in cake and candles, ice cream in the tree house, and the chasing of fire flies after dusk had melted down behind the tallest hill across the street. We stayed up telling ghost stories, trying to see who could outdo each other with the creeps and nilly willy's. My son had recalled a story that was partially true and then went on to embellish it with his own flare. I kept myself from laughing as I knew that the ending was embarrassing for him. He was so scared that he wet himself. I waited to see if he would actually reveal this; to my surprise, he did. ***** ELABORATE***** 

     The grass outside was damp and cool. It felt good on my feet as we raced across  the front yard and over to the corner where purple Iris and delphiniums were lingering in the glow of the moonlight. The lillies of the valley peeked out from under the thick green stalks, pressing against the slate gray rocks and eager to share in the serenity. "Full moon, Momma," my son said. He squeezed both arms around me from behind, one of his best hugs. We often found ourselves watching the moon's shape change on these special occasions or viewing the stars through his telescope while trying desperately to find Orion's Belt. We would lose track of time listening to the crickets symphony, the whispers of the field grasses and taking in all of the layers of vast beauty of the sky. During the daylight hours, we would find ourselves lying on the mound across the street during the late afternoon taking turns claiming various cloud creations. "This one is mine! It a dancing elephant!" And we would laugh at how ridicoulous we were. He would always reach a hand over to grasp mine. And I, in predictable turn, would pull him into my shoulder, hugging him tightly and knowing how very lucky I was to have such an amazing boy.

     We had worked hard setting up the tent earlier in the day, none of us concerned about what the weather might hold. My son had wanted to go on an official camping trip for the last several weeks and for whatever reason, we just couldn't seem to create the time. So, when we found out Kerrie would be with us on her birthday, he suggested a "camp out" complete with S'mores in the fire pit out back. This seemed to make sense. We ordered pizza from Cottage Inn and I finished frosting the cake. Kerrie liked blue and green so Kyle suggested an ocean with palm trees. It wasn't too long before he had hauled out some sea creatures from the bins in his room and began to plant them around the top layers of the cake. I watched him behind amazed eyes. He was only 10 years old and yet he had developed a keen sense of awareness to little details. He wanted so much to please others, make them happy with little surprises. He did this for his friends often and he certainly did this for me more than I can count.  

     Just as we were preparing to set up the table for cake and ice cream we heard a loud beeping noise coming from the other room. Kyle went to investigate and as I had suspected, it was a weather warning. Sad