connection

And just when this night was threatening to last forever, Richie turned over in bed, dislodging the oxygen probe taped to his toe. I ducked behind the curtain to silence the insistent beep beep beep of the monitor before his neighbor, a cranky little man who just had his palate sewn back together, woke up and added to the noise.

I rolled Richie over, loosening him from the stranglehold of IV and feeding tube and blankets that he manages to get himself into the moment I walk away, every single time. I retaped his toe and rubbed his head a few times for good measure, hoping he would be able to rest. When his eyes had drifted closed again, I got up to leave.

As I turned, a little brown hand reached after me, grabbed ahold of mine and refused to let go. He looked up at me as he tugged me back to my knees next to the bed. His other arm, free now from the tangle, threaded itself around my neck as he pulled my face close to his, our foreheads touching in an almost-Maori salute.

We stayed that way for a while, until he was really and truly asleep. I slipped my fingers from his, tucked his arm back under the blanket and went to check on my other patients, my heart a thousand times lighter.