I Fell in Love with Hope - Lancali

Even his disease has a soul. It’s an all-encompassing kind. His
medication, his exams, his treatments are all to be administered
exactly on time. Little does it know, time has a challenger.
The boy laughs, rocking his legs back and forth at the foot of the
bed. The nurse takes his temperature and then reaches for his
morning pills. He opens his mouth just enough for her to slip them in.
With a bite, he shuts it before she can and runs off, laughing.
Time, along with many nurses and doctors, ends up having to chase
him.
Him and his bursts of rebellion. When they catch him, he always
asks the nurse or the doctor to stay and play with him. They sigh,
apologize, and say they have other patients to treat. He is the same
with service workers who bring him his food. The service workers
shake their heads daily, apologize, and say they have other patients
to feed. The boy smiles and says he understands. Then he says
hello to his plate, to his fork, to his cup, and he eats on his own.
I follow the boy after his morning medication round and his checkups.
I am not curious about those parts of his life. I already
understand what’s wrong with him. I want to understand what he is. I
want his in between moments.
An explorer, he runs across the halls without care, asking questions,
not to anyone in particular, but just to ask.
He has no care who is watching or where he is. He moves like he is
a part of the hospital, a universal puzzle piece. He becomes, as I
am: A background detail noticed but not questioned like the color of
a wall or the weight of the front door.
However, for how constant the boy is to this place, he has no
constants of his own.
No one ever visits him. Not parents, not family, not a soul. He has his
usual nurses and doctors, but there is a barrier there, as there must