In the morning, sounds are softer.
The colors that fill the air with a vibrant vibration are gentle on her ear drums.
Waves like the ocean on an August morning.
Warm and slow and frothy.
What sounds once caused the girl a great deal of worry now
Bring comfort in the light of the early hours.

A mother, nestled by the window, lifts her eyelids slowly,
Every morning getting heavier, weighed down by
The soul twisting guilt of bringing a beautiful baby into the
Bright world, only to have her spend her days trapped within these
Boring beige walls, with veins attached to her veins and
Blood attached to her blood and pain attached to her pain.
A mother, who brushes the sweaty hair from her daughter’s forehead,
Can’t escape the irony that 8 years ago she herself sat on a bed
Just like this one, with her legs spread bare and her screams ripping
Her more than the baby’s head fighting it’s way into the cold hospital air.

Back then she knew that her screams of pain would end in a miracle.
But today she hopes that a miracle will end her daughter’s screams.



His head nearly grazes the moon,
his mother calls him T-Bear,
his father calls him Tony,
his wife calls him T,
and his kids call him Daddy.
At work, he is Doctor Aldridge.

The most logical thing our minds can conjure up
When we think of the hardest part of a doctor’s day
Is telling a poor man’s family in the quiet waiting room of the hospital
That he’s dead, that he will never come back. He’s gone.

In reality, the hardest part of a doctor’s day can be one of two things:
Walking back to their car after a long shift, or finding an intern who knows what kind of coffee they like.

The doctor had not yet encountered either of these problems today,
As the god he prayed to every night had apparently
“Blessed” him with his favourite intern, and his shift was only just getting started.

(The God he prays to is actually named Stanley,
he earned his Master’s degree in Cell Biology at Stanford
And currently teaches Fundamental Human Anatomy
at the University of Pennsylvania)

His feet barely meet the ground as he floats around Julie’s bed,
Administering medication and reading her vitals.
The room fills with silence as Julie’s mom stares on,
Each eyelid pulled away from her pupils by some force,
Probably coffee. (It was actually fear)

A “Stroke-like Episode” is what they call it.
Only, Julie is 8.
The tiny cells which make up every ounce of
her consciousness are not fully developed.
There are still microscopic connections and
mechanisms that need to be formed in her
tiny body in order to form her into a big body.

Inside these tiny cells are even tinier things.
(God calls them mitochondria)
Julie got hers from her mom,
But they don’t work right.

These tiny things give Julie energy,
When they do work, they are supposed to fill every inch of you
With electricity and lightning and give you the power
To do what you want to do.

But Julie is never plugged in.
She’s never attached to an outlet,
And her body holds her brain in shackles.

Sometimes, on a good day, she can
Run through the halls with her friend Rose.
But most days she lays in bed or walks around slowly.

Her legs cling tightly to the bed sheets with sweat
Like a child to her mom on the first day of kindergarten.

As the day goes by, the doctor kills more hopes
With every second he spends in the room.
Like a harpoon through the thick water, his words
Pierce her heart, spilling clear blood into
The child’s diseased veins.


A man, who holds no responsibility in his heart
For his young daughter’s condition, transcends
Into the somber room. When hearing the news
that his only child was dying a little faster than
the day before, it would be hopeful to describe
His face as empathetic, but realistic to say it
Was solid, like a mountain. Organic, yes, but
Completely and relentlessly unbothered by
A single thing. Anything at all.

Julie’s father grew up on a farm. He was used
To seeing things die. Even had to kill a few
Things himself. Of course, shooting a calf
Through the head isn’t the same as watching
Your only daughter die slowly over a period of
Decades, but it formed a cushion between
His heart and the world. So when the doctor
Told him she wouldn’t be leaving the hospital
Anytime soon all he could do was take a deep
Sigh, turn towards the door and ask his wife and
Dying child if they wanted anything from the cafe.
When they both stared him blankly in the eyes he
Stepped through the doorway and walked out of sight.

“I’ve never seen so many turkeys in my whole life!” yells Rose as she runs excitedly into the Pediatric wing’s play room. The place is decorated for Thanksgiving, which is coming up in a few days. All along the ceiling are garlands, scattered with a few disfigured turkeys made from the outlines of little children’s hands. Coloured all kinds of colours that turkeys are not supposed to be, but pink is Catherine’s favourite colour, and green is Samuel’s, so naturally the playroom has to have pink and green turkeys.
Now that Julie is feeling better, her and Rose are spending the afternoon getting ready for the Thanksgiving Day Feast.
This year, the Pediatric Wing is hosting a Thanksgiving Day Feast, where all of the children and their families can come and enjoy Thanksgiving festivities together, rather than apart. They’re going to turn the Pediatric conference room into a near exact replica of a cozy family living room, all decked out with tablecloths, candles, and full of awesome food. Right now the kids are making hand turkeys to decorate the room.
“Can you pass the orange crayon please, Rose? I’m almost done, I just need to give my turkey a beak.” says Julie to Rose, who’s sitting across the table from her, colouring her own hand turkey. Rose grabs the orange crayon and rolls it across the table to Julie. As soon as Julie puts the final touches on her turkey, she cuts it out and puts it in the pile so they can get hung up in the conference room.
“Ok guys, let’s make cards for Thanksgiving! You can write them to any of your loved ones. Make sure you tell them that you’re thankful for them and why,” says Kate, the lady who plays games with all of the patients in the playroom and helps coordinate events for the kids. She has soft eyes and a warm smile, and always speaks in such a kind and lovely voice.
The kids make their way over to the arts and crafts table. Kate brings over a stack of brightly coloured construction paper along with a box of pens a markers. She even has a book of thanksgiving stickers for the kids who aren’t able to draw very well.
Suddenly, the room is very quiet. All of the children look blankly at their papers. It may seem as though they may not know who they are thankful for, but that is certainly not the case. Each one of these children has so many things and people to be thankful for, it’s hard for them to choose just one.
Rose whispers into Julie’s ear, “Pst, Julie, who are you writing yours to?”
“I’m gonna write mine to David,” she responds in a hushed voice, “I’ve never seen any family visit him, so I’m gonna ask him to come to the Thanksgiving Day Feast with me and my family.”
“Oh yay! I can’t wait to show David my hand turkey,” replies Rose, as she begins writing a card to her sister, who’s two years older than her.
Julie writes a card to David, and this is what she says:
“Dear David,
Happy Thanksgiving!
My name is Julie, and I’m your friend from the Pediatric unit.
The Pediatrics wing is having a Thanksgiving Day feast and, since you’re my friend, I wanted to invite you to be my family’s guest.
We’ll have food and play games and laugh. It’ll be great.
It’s this Thursday, November 23rd at 1pm in the Pediatrics Wing Conference Room.
I’ll stop by your room soon to check with you!
But I also wanted to tell you why I am thankful for you.
I am thankful for you because whenever I come to meet you I get to make a new friend all over again.
Even though you forget me, you are still nice to me.
You play games with me and rose even though you think we are strangers.
I’m thankful to have a friend like you.
See you at the feast, hopefully!
And don’t worry, I’ll remind you.
Love,
Your friend,
Julie”

Julie grabs an envelope from the craft station. She folds her letter up, puts it in the envelope, and seals it closed. She scrawls “David” in her messy handwriting across the front and hands it to Kate.
“Who’s David, Julie? Can we write his address so that he gets the letter?” Kate asks with a smile.
“David lives here in the hospital. He’s in room 5107.” smiles Julie, completely innocently.
“Oh, awesome,” remarks Kate as she hesitantly takes the letter from her. Julie shines her smile to Kate, and turns back towards the craft table with a jump in her step.
Rose is still deep in her writing. Julie catches a glimpse of the name Max in her letter, which she recognizes as Rose’s brother’s name. Julie knows that Rose misses her brother the most. He is only one year older than her, and they are best friends. They both used to play soccer, and would always kick a ball around in the backyard.
Remembering Rose’s brother made Julie think of her own brother, Lucas. He is much younger than her, only 3 years old. But Julie still remembers the day he was born.
Julie stayed at her friend’s house that night, and early in the morning her dad came to pick her up. He brought her to the hospital and up into the Maternity ward. There sitting on the bed was her mom, with a little ugly thing wrapped in a blanket sitting like a potato in her arms.
Julie thought it was gross, but her mom insisted she touch his cheek. She was only about 5, but the moment her finger touched his skin, well she knew she’d never forget it. That’s Julie’s earliest and fondest memory, feeling the soft skin of her newborn baby brother. Feeling what a healthy child feels like…

Before Julie could sadden herself too much, Kate made an announcement to all the kids in the playroom.
“Okay! Now that we’re done with letters, who wants to decorate some cookies?!”
The children squeal with delight. Everyone rushes over to the table where Kate has set up blank sugar cookies cut out in the shape of turkeys with a variety of colours of frosting scattered about. Julie and Rose find an empty spot along the table and begin decorating. There isn’t a frown anywhere to be seen. There’s nothing like bright colours and sugar to brighten any mood, especially sick kids.
The kids sit decorating, eating, and laughing until Kate notices the time.
“Okay kids! It’s time for evening rounds, everyone back to your rooms. Make sure you tell your families about the feast on Thursday. Hopefully I’ll see you there!”

Slowly, the younger and sicker kids’ parents come by to guide them back to their rooms, and Julie and Rose head their separate ways. Julie is exhausted from the day, and falls asleep the second her head hits the ice cold pillow.

Fire burns against Julie’s skin.
The glass focuses the smooth
Rays of Sun, meaning even
Though it’s barely even sunny
Out, her skin has still set fire with
The blaze of a never ending inferno.

Her eyes open quickly, and dart
Around the bland box. Alone and
Lonely, she swings her wobbly, thin
Legs over the edge of the bed and
Hits the tile floor so forcefully her knees
Nearly snap beneath her. She steadies,
Putting one foot in front of the other and
Trekking through the quiet hallways.

“5107” yells the wooden door at her tired
Eyes. She pushes him in frustration, and
He quickly moves out of her way.

A stranger, but only to himself, sits on the
Couch looking out a window with the curtains
Drawn. The young girl sits beside him, fully aware
That there is absolutely no purpose to staring
At a curtain, but she does it anyway. There is a
World of space between them, but somehow she
Can tell what he’s thinking.

His mind scares her.
It’s chaotic.
Like a mailroom the week before Christmas.
Information is flying everywhere, but there’s nowhere for it to go.
A frantic worker tries to sort all the letters into boxes, trying to sort out all the memories.
But there are no labels on any of the drawers.
He tries to make sense of all the letters,
tries to put them in the right spot so they
can get where they need to go and do
what they need to do. But without the labels
he is useless, just scattering all the
information about the room aimlessly.

David closes his eyes, and the mailman stops
In his tracks. The letters still come in, but rather
Than flying around, the just pile themselves up
In a basket and wait patiently to be sorted. The
Mailman takes a seat, breathing heavily. He gazes
Around the room at all of the letters,
finally sitting peacefully in a pile.

He stands, and approaches the pile timidly.
He picks up the top letter, opening it
With shaking hands, like a lion will jump
Out and try to eat him.
The note inside has 4 simple words written across it.

“Julie is my friend”

His eyes open to the blue curtains,
cushioning his vision like a calm ocean.
As an owl in the night, his head swivels to the side,
met by the gaze of a smiling 8-year old girl
wearing a white robe and socks that are too big for her tiny feet.

Voice shaking like San Andreas
He asks
“Are you Julie?”
She nods.
He pulls her close and sobs into her shoulder.
She doesn’t flinch.

For the first time in a very long time, the sounds of the hospital are all happy.
Julie’s ears fill with laughter as she enters the Pediatric Wing Conference Room holding her mom’s hand.
There are 8 or 9 tables set up inside the big room, each adorned ornately. Each has a single red tablecloth covering the whole length of the table, with an extra foot or so hanging off the ends. In the middle of each table is a tall candlestick resting in a shining silver candleholder, and surrounding that are little white votives, all casting their faint yellow glow on the table. At each place setting sits a round, white paper plate, a plastic knife, fork, and spoon, a plastic cup for water, and a festive little napkin.
All around the room are colourful little turkey in the shape of hands. Tiny hands with jagged edges, but coloured so delicately that you can’t get the image of a smiling colouring it himself out of your head.
“Come on sweetie, our table is over here,” says Julie’s mom, pulling her hand towards the back corner of the room.
Julie’s dad follows close behind, carrying Lucas in his arms. Julie glances over her shoulder to see if David has arrived yet.
He hasn’t.

The family find their way to their table and take their seats. This is the first time they’ve all been at a table together since Julie first came into the hospital. They all smile, but are silent, as they aren’t really sure what to talk about.
“Look mom, that’s my turkey!” says Julie with a big smile on her face, pointing to the turkey she made the other day in the playroom. Her mom turns her head to see, and claps with excitement.
“Oh Julie, that’s awesome! Are we allowed to take them home? I want to hang it on the fridge.”
“I’ll ask Kate, but I hope so,” she grins with delight to her mom.
Suddenly, Lucas starts kicking in his chair, obviously excited by something.
“What is it Lucas? What do you know that we don’t?” asks Julie excitedly. Almost immediately, a big metal cart filled with food enters the conference room. A warm and exciting atmosphere fills the air as Cafeteria workers bring sets of food to each table. A plate full of steaming, juicy turkey, a heaping bowl of cloud-like mashed potatoes, a tray filled with a rainbow of vegetables, and even some gravy and cranberry sauce. Steam poured off of all the food and onto the table, and Julie and her family looked at each other with sparkles in their eyes.
Every family waited for all of the food to be handed out, and when it was done, Kate stood at the front of the room.
“I’d like to thank all of you, children, families, and friends, for joining us today to celebrate something special. Thanksgiving is a day to spend time with everyone who makes you thankful. The Pediatric unit wanted to coordinate this feast to say how thankful we are to have known each and every one of you, and we wish the best for all of you. Now, without further ado, let the feasting begin!”
And with that, they ate. There was so much happy chatter and laughter, you could hardly tell that half the people in the room were dying.
Cafeteria workers come around and fill drinks. And when they are all done, they clear everyone’s plates. For dessert, they each get a warm piece of apple pie topped with cool vanilla ice cream. The ice cream feels wonderful on Julie’s throat, as it has been hurting her all day.
While they are enjoying their pie, Julie notices something different about the doorway. She glances up and sees David standing there, shyly looking around the room.
Her face instantly lights up as she bolts over the door to greet him.
“David! You made it!” she yells, a little too loudly. But not enough to scare him off.
“Yes I did. I saw the invitation hanging on the wall in front of my bed just now. I’m sorry I’m late.”
“That’s okay,” she reassures him, “You made it in time for dessert. I’m sure they can get you some pie!”
“I’m alright actually. I don’t like pie too much.” David sees that Julie is saddened by this, so he says, “But I will have some ice cream, if you have some left.” And Julie’s smile is back again.
“Kate! Can David have a bowl of ice cream please?”

For the next hour or so, David and Julie and her family sit laughing and sharing stories. David even joins in, telling them about a funny altercation he had with his nurse just before the feast. Julie’s parents don’t find anything odd about David, which makes Julie happy. They just smile and laugh and talk about the happy times they’ve had. Lucas even seems to be enjoying it, as he gets up and starts dancing around the table, giving everyone a good laugh.
Rose comes over to say hi to Julie’s family, and she brings over her brother Max to introduce him. Max is very kind and shakes all of their hands, even telling Julie’s mom that he loves her top.
The families share tips on how to handle their hectic schedules in and out of the hospital, and exchange contact information in case any of them find themselves in a difficult situation.
After an hour or two of socializing, the staff move the tables around and set up chairs facing one of the walls. They were able to find a movie projector so they could play Charlotte’s Web for the families.
David, Julie, and her family find some seats and sit down as Kate turns off the lights and the movie starts.
“This is my favourite movie,” David whispers to Kate.
“It is?” she asks, “Why?”
“Well, my wife's name is Charlotte,” he responds with a light voice, “And I miss her very much.”
Julie had never heard David talk about his wife before, she didn’t even know he had a wife.
“Where is she?”
“Oh, she died a few years ago. After our 40th wedding anniversary, she died of breast cancer in this very same hospital.” Julie notices that David looks a little sad now, so she tries to change the subject.
“So, if your wife was Charlotte, does that make you Wilbur?” she giggles, and lifts up the end of her nose to look like a pig snout while making snorting noises.
David laughs too, “Yes I suppose it does.” And he turns happily towards the screen to watch the rest of the movie.

After the movie, all of the families are tired and start to head back home with their little ones. Rose’s family comes to say goodbye, and Julie can see that Rose is tearing up a bit saying goodbye to her brother.
“I’ll see you again soon, sissy,” he says as he gives her a big bear hug. They head out of the door as Rose’s mom leads her back to her hospital room.
“It’s getting late,” David says to Julie, “I think I have to head back now. Thank you very much for inviting me, I had a lovely time. It was so nice to have someone to spend the day with.” He leans down and gives Julie a kiss on the cheek.
“I’ll come see you tomorrow, don’t you worry David!” she says. He turns away with a wave and heads out into the hallway to make his way back to his room.

Now it’s time for Lucas and Julie’s dad to head out.
“Okay sweetie, we’ll be back in a couple days. We love you,” Lucas leans down to give his mom a kiss on the cheek, and his dad drops him even lower so that he can kiss the top of Julie’s head.
“Bye! Come back soon,” says Julie with tears in her eyes as her dad and brother turn and walk out the door.
“Come on sweetie, it’s time for bed,” coos her mom, and she grabs Julies hand and leads her back down the quiet hallway.

All she sees is waves,
Burning her eyes and filling
Her lungs as she rises from
The cold, stone ground.

Her night was spent staring
Into the bottom of a toilet bowl,
With her stomach threatening to
Explode itself into the still water.

Her nausea took hold of more
Than just her stomach. Her body
Felt weak, barely able to pull itself
Off the floor of her tiny bathroom.

As she drags her weight through
The doorway and into her room,
She can’t bring herself to lay on
Her disease ridden bed another second.

Her small, fragile toes kiss the cold tile
Of the hallway. Time freezes, the tiny
Body floats through the hall into a familiar room,
with closed blue curtains above the windows.

A strong figure lies atop a simple throne, with his
Face scrunched and his fists clenched tight.
Beneath the lids, his eyes dart back and forth,
And soft grunts escape his closed grimace.

The girl approaches slowly, only wanting to
Help. Her little feet inch closer to the bedside,
And the clock ticks in her ears. The minute hand
Marches it’s way towards 10:55 pm.

It’s really quite unfortunate what happened next,
Both the quiet girl and the agitated king would
Be haunted by the following moments for the
Rest of their lives. But the king got to forget.

Julie did not.



His arm shot out from beside him like a bullet.
His eyes exploded open, and his body was a war zone.
His hand grabbed the little girls arm in a tight grasp,
Trembling with fear some might mistake as anger.

Get out of here! He screamed, almost destroying
her ear drums along with his vocal chords.
The irony of the situation was that he wanted
Her to leave, but he had her locked in his grip.

She pulled with all of the force in her body, which wasn’t much,
But he wouldn’t let her go. Tears poured from her eyes as
She cried. Why?! I’m your friend! Why?!
But nothing seemed to register. The words floated between his ears.

You’re bad! You’re bad! Screamed the king’s raw throat,
Making the little girl’s body collapse into a heap, still
Hanging from his tight grip. She sobbed louder than
Ever, but couldn’t speak any words.

All of the energy was leaving her body.
With every word he yelled and second he held her,
another minute of power was lost to the sky, floating
Into the air as sound. A painful sound, heartbreak.

It didn’t take long for all of Julie’s energy to escape.
After a few minutes of dangling from David’s grasp,
Her vision faded. In the short seconds before blacking out,
She saw a man in a white coat rush in, and collapse to his knees beside her.




She woke up in her bed with an IV and a headache.
Memories from the night bounced around her head
Faster than the pain did. Her left side ached, but
This time so did the rest of her body.

A herd of doctors were huddled in the corner of
Her room, whispering. But their whispers sounded
Crisp and clear in the girl’s raw ears. She could hear
Everything they were saying, and it only made her hurt worse.

They spoke about a disease. The one Julie had.
They said that it was getting worse day by day.
They discussed her brain and her muscles and all of her.
Julie didn’t know what it meant, but she knew she wanted to cry.

She knew she should be afraid of her disease.
She knew she should be scared to die.
But the only thing that played in her head was the image of David’s
Frightened, bloodshot eyes, and she just couldn’t stay there any longer.

With a lot on her mind, Julie decides she wants to see David. She gets out of bed, after a lot of time spent convincing the doctors. She doesn’t have enough energy to walk, so one of the floor nurses connects her IV to a wheelchair, sits her down in it, and begins to roll her down the hall to David’s room.
“Julie, are you sure you want to see him right now? I don’t know if it’s the best idea…” says the nurse, in a calm but cautionary tone.
“Yes, I’m sure. I want to see him.”
The nurse sighs, but carries on anyway. It’s hard to say no to a dying child.

Once they reach David’s room, Julie asks the nurse if she can go in on her own. As soon as she says this, a doctor comes out of David’s room and whispers something in the nurse’s ear.
“Should I still let her in? She wants to go in on her own,” says the nurse to the doctor.
“Yes it should be okay, he doesn’t remember anything. We’ve told him, and he’s upset, but I think it would help for him to see her,” responds the doctor, who heads down the hallway to help other patients.
The nurse wheels her into the room, leaving her beside David’s bed, where he is sitting facing the window opposite Julie.
“David? It’s me Julie… I came to… uh… say hi…”
David is still facing the window, and Julie notices that the curtains are open, the first time in months.
“You shouldn’t be here, darling. Your father will be upset that I’ve hurt you. Even when I lived next door to you and you came to see me every day, he wasn’t very fond of me. I barely remember those times anymore... I… I don’t remember hurting you. I don’t even remember anything. I thought… I didn’t even know I was in the hospital. I didn’t even know I didn’t know anything.”
Julie rolls her wheelchair over to the other side of the bed. David’s face is sad, his eyes are staring at his feet, and his expression is shameful and melancholy.
“I’m not hurt, I’m alright. I’m sick anyway, just like you.”
“But I made it worse… I’m sorry…” David sighs and closes his eyes, trying to hold in tears. Julie wheels slightly closer to him and puts her hand on his.
“Mister, I’m only 8. I don’t think about those kinds of things. I think about what game I want to play next, or what I’m having for dinner. Last night I came into your room to play a game with you, one that we always play. The doctors tell me not to come into your room after 8, but I did it anyway, because, mister, i’m only 8. And I’m living in a hospital because they say I’m gonna die one day. But I just want to see my friends. I have bad days, and I think you had one yesterday. Since we’re friends, I came in to see if you’re okay, and if you want to play a game.” Julie stares up at a teary-eyed David from her wheelchair. She smiles, awaiting his response.
“Yes, I’d love to play,” he pauses. “Where do you want to go this time?”