'Waiting' by Angeline Wheeler

I was summoned at about three in the morning. Now I know why this hour is known to some workers as the graveyard shift, your body feels dead and your mind sluggish, but still I dressed and went. I walked into the room. It felt stifling, airless and my attention was drawn to the huge, bright light, angled low in the centre of the room. On closer inspection it was three lights in one, like a huge monsters eye gazing intently, intimately on the sole occupant beneath.
Oh when will you arrive?
I approach and look into the woman’s face and see the frightened eyes of the child looking back. A single tear slips down her face. I touch her arm for there is little else I can do for her now. The monitor by the bed beeps steadily and the red light flashes intermittently.
Oh when will you arrive?
I sit on the lone plastic chair near the chair bed that she is on and watch her as she dozes for a few minutes. Away from the monster’s eye in the semi-darkness I look round this dull room, dull blue walls, dull brown floors that curve slightly where the floor meets the wall and I notice the grimy line where both meet. Needs a good scrub this place does. Further around, one sink, one towel dispenser, one clock, oh the clock, eyes focus again and again, time is almost standing still.
Oh when will you arrive?
One closed blind. I wonder if there is a window behind it, if so I’d love to smash it just to let some air in but it may hide something unspeakable. She is awake now, in pain and I look to the monitor by the bed still sending out its signals. THEY come and another machine is set close to her and a drip fastened in her arm. She can not last out much longer.
Oh when will you arrive?
I look up to the ceiling and there is some attempt at artexing having been made but that now, is dinghy, faded to a greyish white. She moans and my heart goes out to her for this is now her journey and one she faces alone. It is nearly time, nearly over they tell me as once again they make their checks on her.
Oh when will you arrive?
Please, please let it be soon because the woman is losing strength fast. THEY come again, exchange low pitched words indicating urgent attention will soon be needed. The woman and myself, we both need you to arrive. I glance at the monster eye overhead, which never wavers is dispassionate, and send up a silent prayer. I am informed you are on your way. You are close now and then finally, at
six thirty in the morning you arrive.
I look at you and I love you. I hand you to your mummy whose face is very tired but oh so jubilant. Welcome to the world my beautiful grandson. The light is switched off and I leave the room, leave mother and son to rest. I walk out into the cool, fresh, morning air and let the tears roll then dry on my face, unashamed, for haven’t I just discovered and witnessed the Greatest Show on Earth?