The View From A Hospital Window
By Byron Pulsifer, © 2011
It isn’t everyday that I go to the hospital but there are times when I want to and not have to.
One of these days came recently when we received a call from our son who proudly announced that a new baby girl had been born into the world.
It wasn’t that we weren’t expecting the call either because we were baby-sitting our first grandson while his parents where otherwise engaged in a miracle of life.
We soon had our little grandson bundled up for our winter drive to the city hospital.
After we arrived at the hospital, we waited in the lobby for our son to meet us so he could take his little son to see his new sister. He wanted a little time to be alone with his family and we certainly understood.
In a short time, we received a call on our cell asking us to come up to their room. Of course, with a bounce in our step off we went and arrived to meet our new granddaughter.
How cute she was, all wrapped in her little blanket being cuddled and asleep in her mother’s arms.
The Miracle of Birth
As the moment of excitement died down and Catherine was holding our granddaughter, I had time to relax. I turned to look out the hospital window at the blazing sun and pretty blue sky marvelling at such a glorious day. It is obviously a pleasure to be close to new birth and in a hospital for pleasant reasons.
As I stared out the window, for some reason another not so happy window gazing was brought forward in my mind. I recalled one other time I was staring out the window of a hospital room, a room where . . .
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