Her Father’s Song

Posted by on Oct 26, 2016 in Writings

Her Father’s Song

Beneath the hustle and bustle of the busy theatre there is a soft hum.

It is her father’s song. It is a song and voice she recognises. She stops to listen.

It has been a busy night and day. She and her mother have worked hard and now she has been cut from her mother’s womb. Her cord severed. A pipe stuck in her mouth and nose.

Voices. Smells.

Strange hands. Bright lights.

Cold.

And then placed on her mother’s chest and a towel placed over her. Her mother’s sweet smelling chest.

Soft. Warm. Comforting.

Soft touch. Gentle, loving voices.

And then the song.

A soft hum.

It softly penetrates the clatter. The chatter. The competitive banter. The jovial joking. The hustle. The bustle.

Green fabric. Beeping machines that seem to breathe. Bright lights. Fast, efficient movements. Talking. Instructions.

Splatters of blood?

Shiny instruments.Flashing. Pipes. Sucking.

She is placed on her mother’s chest and the rhythm of her mother’s heartbeat is so familiar. And the smell so sweet and delicious.

She looks around. She sniffs. She smells. She drools. She nuzzles.

She is protected by her father’s song. A soft hum which seems to weave a protective spell around the mother, father and child.

Even the doctor performing the surgery notices the magic of the father’s song and stops his chatter to listen.

 

 

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