#Purple

She walked into the night and inhaled a huge gulp of air. Only when the chill hit her did she realize she had left her jacket behind in the room.

She turned to go get it, stopped midway and turned back and walked the other way. She needed a bit of respite from the endless corridors, the sterile room and the last bit of hope trickling out each time she was in there.

Rubbing her face she sat down on a bench, shoulders slumped, elbows on knees and neck bowed down, like in prayer.

She was tired. Very tired.

Why me, she asked, yet again.

Her baby was precious.

Born after 12 years of marriage and a difficult pregnancy and delivery, every pain had been worth it, and forgotten, the moment she laid eyes on his cherubic face. He was perfect, or had at least seemed so for a little while, until he was diagnosed with a ‘Congenial Heart Defect’

Hearing the prognosis she went numb, and her husband went to an overactive mode, his defence mechanism in any crisis.

Many appointments and second opinions, multiple treatments and stays in various hospitals later doctors had given up hope. Till one doctor asked if they would be willing to try out a new treatment. It would be a hit or miss, but what did they have to lose?

Arguments and anger finally gave way to a tired yes from both the parents and here they were, clinging onto hope.

Give me a sign, God! Show me something that I have never seen before! So I know my baby is going to get better.

And she lifted her sobbing face to see the most breathtaking Purple Dawn.