Fan blades whir above me.
I can see them through the netting
that covers the top of my crib. (Earliest memory)
The sound and vibrations are comforting, and I am quieted.
There are others here, but they have yet to
discover the soothing wafts of redirected wind,
for still they wail.
We are left in the care of strangers as our bodies
heal from whatever ails us.
Parents were not allowed to stay with their babies
under hospital care back then.
Wind, directed, redirected, or otherwise…mostly otherwise,
is still wildly soothing to this tired heart.
Perhaps it all started with my earliest cognitive recollection
in a room full of crying babies in the care of nurses we didn’t know?
Copyright Dani Heart