For the Very First Time
by Gina DeMarco
I take two steps to every one of his as I follow my Dad through the bright hallway. Shiny elevator doors slide open slowly, and we step between them. For only a moment, the sickly smell and the ongoing buzz of activity disappear. Then the doors open back up and we are under the fluorescent lights, walking quickly to reach our destination. My Dad maneuvers us through corridors with pink walls and waiting rooms full of sick people with ashen faces and families sitting quietly together, holding hands and praying. I try to ignore the hospital smell that is made up disinfectant, sick bodies, and foul cafeteria food. He pauses for a moment to assure that we are almost there. Nervousness laced with excitement bubbles up in my stomach. We round one more corner and now the waiting room we are in is a calmer, darker one in comparison to the others. There is a feeling of contentment here as Dad opens a door for me. I enter a room, suddenly feeling shy. I sit in a plastic chair tucked into the furthest corner. Waiting patiently, I make pointless conversation to pass the time. Finally, a nurse enters and places a tiny, warm bundle into Dad’s arms. He then turns, and hands the bundle to me. The entire hospital, the sights, sounds, and smells all disappear as I look into the eyes of my brother for the very first time.
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