There is something spiritual about sunrise.Break of dawn. New beginning. Sunrise comes with renewed hope. A clean slate, expectations and endless possibilities.Above all it brings the ultimate beauty of the universe, uncertainty.
Sunrise brings out true beauty in people, nature and features.Occasionally the sun is moody or stuck in traffic . Mist and fog take its place.
Its six am.Am standing in a waiting area. I have been up all night.Am weary and red eyed.All night i have been in a maternity wing. coffee is running in my system. Next to me is an elderly man and his wife. They are full of expectations. They are expecting a grandchild. The elderly man is no longer angry his 18 year old daughter was knocked up. More than ever he wants a grandchild. His blood. His legacy.
Like all mothers, his wife wants to be there for her daughter. she is willing to share in her daughter’s pain and agony of childbirth. But this is a journey the daughter has to take alone.
In maternity wings people call unto the Lord. Some in pain. Some in anxiety. Others seeking a second chance. maternity wings are full of questions; how is she? is it a boy? a girl? are you sure? what do you mean both?
A nurse walks towards where am standing.she calls the couple aside. she doesn’t lead them to the ward. She leads them to an office.The man’s wife breaks into tears. It is not a new beginning. The man tries to conceal his emotion.Damn the fog.
Anxiety grips me. The mist does not seem to go away. Could this be an omen? A friend is expecting a child.She has been in labour half the night. Am now used to groans and screams. Am tempted to leave. Am afraid the nurse will call me aside too
I notice a nurse walking towards me. I cannot read her poker face. she seems to be frowning yet smiling. She motions me to follow her, the sun has not yet showed up yet.
At last i notice an infant the size of an arm. its a boy. tiny eyes,miniature fingers, he is kinda scary. I can not bring myself to hold him though. He is too delicate. Am relieved.Screw the fog and mist.
He is like a canvas awaiting a painter’s stroke. pure, innocent virgin. not even a name.he is awaiting what life will provide.
I envy him. He is not corrupted like the rest of us. he knows no insecurities. he knows no boundaries. He can be anything. He knows no impossibilities or realities. The little thing knows no harm.
Shall he be a priest? A polygamist like uncle Joe? (story for another day), A writer? His page is clean endless possibilities.
He shall have a name of his own . His own mind. his thoughts , dreams and prayers. He shall slowly learn reality and have his own securities. His own life.Either by privilege or right he is a citizen of the world.
I turn to leave, I notice the suns rays.
Sound track: WE are young–Fun feat janelle montrell