Second Chances

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I can feel the seconds slip into minutes, the threat of another hour wasted looming over me like an ever swinging noose.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Suddenly, I can’t take the silence anymore. I need to get up. I need to get out and do something.... anything. But, as fast I jump up, I sink back down onto the hard cushion of a solidary chair. My mind floods with a memory. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the images, but it’s like they are burned into my consciousness.

I bury my face in my hands and take a moment to rub my eyes. How long has it been since I sat down here alone? I can’t even remember the actual movement my body made when I got up from the side of the hospital bed to make my way out to the silent, lonely waiting room. I shake my head again and try with every ounce of concentration to think of something else, anything else, but I can’t. I am trapped in this nightmare... this unforgiving, unfair nightmare.

A violent wave of emotion suddenly washes over me, churning in the pit of my stomach. I want to scream and cry and shout at the people I see walking past me. Why did this have to happen? Why us? Why my sister?

I can’t breathe. The longing that transcends every part of my being has slithered around my heart and is squeezing it to death.

Why couldn’t it have been me who died? Why did it have to be her?

Tears flow silently down my cheeks. They are the only evidence that something is wrong with me. I am staring straight ahead, not seeing what is directly in front of me. Not seeing anything except that horrible white sheet laying over a once joyful child.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I am defined by this moment. I am defined by the seconds, minutes, and hours I share with those I love. I am defined by second chances.