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

6/17/2015