The hospital’s waiting room was painted white. Silence reigned as four people of different ages sat down around the glass table. The curtains were also white, and they opened to a green garden with three trees that were planted there decades ago. You could see the birds sitting down on them, in silence, without moving, looking through the window and awaiting their friend.
The summer sky had a passing cloud that hid the shining sun, but the warmth was still there. The mother could still feel it as she sat on the steel chair, head between hands, elbows on knees. Her husband laid back on the sofa, head toward the ceiling and eyes closed. Two brothers sat in silence on each side of their father, whose arms held the children closer than ever.
The waiting room’s door opened. Enter a nurse followed by the doctor, both in their operation scrubs. The mother looked up, the father opened his eyes and the brothers jumped off their place. Outside, the birds were still silent, and the sky bluer than before, with the one cloud gone.
Both parents looked at the doctor and the nurse, anticipating the news, wishing that the four-year-old daughter had not given up. They looked at the doctor whose hand was wiping off a tear of his eye. He then removed his surgical mask. All of a sudden, all the birds sang in a beautiful harmony.