I have spent the majority of the last year inside of a hospital. The latest room I am staying in has an amazing view of a less than amazing city. The usual morning ritual involves flicking a couple of switches and listening to the soft hum motors that raise the blinds to the rooms corner windows. Generally I am greeted by an impressive view of the rocky mountains off to the western horizon and the scene of a mass of vehicles slowly crawling along the Trans Canada. At this point I normally take a slight sadistic joy in watching the angry faced commuters trying to force their way to a job they most likely hate, to pay for the SUV that is currently bringing them so much joy. This morning however was different.
The first thought that entered my mind as the window opened was, white quiet. The air was filled with crystals to the point that the freeway could not be seen. The sun was reduced to a small but brilliant light, it was like a flood light lighting up a foggy night. It was so oddly bright, but yet you could see so very little. It obscured the chaotic world outside of the hospital and instilled in me a very strange calm. I turned on some soft music, and sat on the bed and just enjoyed it for almost a full hour.
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