White walls. Multicolored tile floors. The overpowering smell of hand sanitizer floating steadily through the air. Children playing around with the left-out used toys as their parent’s chastised them quietly. Wheelchairs rolling slowly down the long, boring hallways. Blurs of blue, pink, and purple rushing down this hallway and that hallway. The waiting room I was in was slowly getting thinner and thinner as the names got called out one by one their families leaving behind the air of desperation and hope in their wake. Waiting. Watching the children’s cartoons flash wildly across the screen hoping to pass time. Anticipation gnawing at me like a dog does a bone. I could faintly hear the sounds of a ticking clock in the distance. Then it was my turn…

   
I remember the commotion. I could read everyone’s expressions like a open book. Sadness. Disappointment. Anger. Before they covered it up with blank, emotionless faces. I remember the hospital room like I was there yesterday. The room that became the cause of my inner destruction. The room with its crisp, white, clean walls staring back at me like sheets of blank paper. Emotionless. Void. The room was so silent you could even hear a feather drop. My parents tried to communicate with me but I just stared blankly at the wall, lost in my thoughts. All because of six words. Six little words that changed my life forever: 
       

“You have to have another surgery”, the doctor said quietly.

It felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice cold water right over my head. At three years old I hardly understood anything. When I had my first surgery I was barely old enough to remember anything. Now I still didn't really understand but somehow that made everything even more real for me. The lines between fantasy and reality were forever blurred ; at least in my three year old mind.

                                     +++++

The next few days flew by like birds soaring thru the sky. More doctor’s appointments. More hospitals. More faces that years from now I wouldn't be able to remember. In and out like a revolving door. Finally the day came when it was time for me to leave. I shook my head. Let’s get this over with. Hopefully this would be the last time.

“Today is the day sweetheart. Are you ready?” My dad asked calmly.

I nodded stiffly and followed after him down the stairs towards the kitchen. The smell of chocolate chip pancakes wafting up my nose ; brightening my mood a little. 

   “Good morning beautiful!” my mother exclaimed.

          I smiled but said nothing.

    “I made your favorite. Chocolate chip pancakes. With extra chocolate just like you like them!” she said kindly while squatting down to my level.

I gave her a wobbly smile, nodded, and tried not to cry. I looked around the kitchen for what seemed to be the last time. The tan walls,the wooden floors, the scattered kitchen appliances committing everything to memory like it would be my last time there even though I would only be gone for a few days. I sat there eating my breakfast quietly, catching my parent’s gazes every now and then. I watched from my porch as my dad loaded up the car.

My dad looked up at me.“Time to go.”

I hugged my parents goodbye, picked up my bag and got in the car. I stared blankly out the window lost in my thoughts. The airport was a lot bigger than what I was expecting. I looked around me in a mixture of both awe and fright as my dad and I walked through the airport hand in hand. There was so much commotion. Long lines. People with big, bulky suitcases bustling about. We went through a lot of lines and made many stops so many that I lost count. I was glad that we could now take a break. Now we were back to square one. Waiting. Watching. Observing. I always thought that my first time in an airport would be scarier but I was surprisingly at ease watching people hurriedly walking dragging bags and suitcases behind them. Others were walking along aimlessly some on phones others drinking coffee. And me. Curiously  watching my surroundings with wide eyes as I tried to absorb as much as I could into my three year old brain like a sponge does to water.

“Attention! Plane going to Miami is now boarding at Gate 5.”

My dad stood up, grabbed our bags and walked forward. I guess this was our plane. I felt excitement and nervousness run through me making butterflies erupt in my stomach like a volcano. I squeezed my dad’s hand seeking comfort. He looked down slightly before giving my hand a reassuring squeeze back.
    

“Everything’s going to be alright”, he murmured.

Let’s hope so dad. Let’s hope so. I smiled slightly as we walked through the gateway.