His weary eyes are filled with unshed tears as he stretches his arm across white hospital sheets. His sense of desperation is palpable as he tenderly covers his wife’s cold hand with his and prays for a sign. But he is not greedy. Perhaps a fluttering motion from long eyelashes that brush her pale cheeks, a sudden movement from her fingertips or a tongue that unmercifully teases her dry lips.
James tries not to focus on a mechanical ventilator that now sits idle in a corner of the room. But he’s cognizant of a nasal cannula that drapes over and behind his wife’s delicate ears, and the movement of her chest as it rises and falls with every breath.
Carefully he pulls a blue baby hat out of one of his trouser pockets. He lays the brand new knit by the corner of his wife’s pillow. Leaning over he gently rests his unshaven face against her soft skin. But soon after he feels a tear roll down her cheek and caress the side of his face. He takes a deep breath, savors the moment, and knows that everything will be alright.