Hearts Beating

After a 5 hour surgery (the doc had to move Matt's osteomy) and all that positive intended space held by readers on here and the many people whose lives have been touched by Matt, he pulled through surgery and is well on the path of recovery. I was able to see him last night--the nurses even let me in to the recovery room when they normally don't allow visitors there, but they made an exception because his surgery was late and long and his room wasn't ready. He was undoubtedly groggy and in great pain, but still able to wink and ask for a neck rub. So I stood there soothing his muscles in this place where people come to from surgery, listening to the nurses delivering the first promises of life to all the patients, bodies stiff and minds confused. When the room was ready I followed alongside his bed through halls and elevators--so many tiny bumps transitioning between carpet and tile and doorways--the faintest of which caused painful movement. So many little things we take for granted being able to bare. And then he was settled in his room and I sat alongside him and listened to his heart beating. It's a sound I never liked to hear, even through the small chests of my kids, because it always struck me how precarious it sounded, as if life is but a delicate thump. It never seemed solid enough of a sound. But after hearing Matt's ticking chest last night, it's become a sound I will forever want to hear--no longer a thing of fear, but a source of reverence and awe.