ARIELLE

There were snow flurries in the air today
early for my liking, snow flurries coming
in small singular spirals, falling through the air
spun by their shapes, the tug of the wind
sitting in the office, watching them tumble
by my window, pause in the conversation with client
marvel for a moment at the ballet before me
forward scouts for their brethren to follow
later in the season when fall yields to winter
soon enough they will come, in legions

-Snow Flurries||Raymond A. Foss

Florence Nightingale Pediatric Hospital in our little town has walls and floors and halls and scents and sounds that seem like home to me. In fact, it was a bit of a second home for me. I grew up in Nightingale as much as I grew up in our own home. So, when I was pronounced free of cancer, it finally gave me a chance to bid my second home a bittersweet farewell—one a little less bittersweet than the hello I gave it today.

You wheeled me around to see places that we used to spend hours in as kids—the tiny emergency room that I'd be in at least 3 times a week was the first thing we passed.

"Remember when you had your first major nosebleed?" Your voice sounded like you wanted to come across as reminiscent when in truth it came out blank. "That scared the hell out of everyone. But you were smiling, even laughing when I freaked out. You acted like it happened every day. God, I can't believe you could even stare at the needle when they stuck it into your arm for transfusion!

I gave a half-hearted chuckle, remembering my nosebleed days. My little 8-year old nose was always dripping like a faucet but unlike other kids my age who only had colds and allergies to face, I had to deal with the salty, rust-tasting ruby red liquid that dribbled from my nose to my lips and down my chin. It scared my parents senseless the first time they saw it.

Now, after long years of hiding my little nosebleed days secrets, I decided to come clean.

"Well, it sort of did happen every day. I was used to seeing that."

"Wait, what?"

A flurry of memories ran through me, remembering how I'd hidden nosebleeds worse than the one I got hospitalized for. I remembered how I'd lock my room wherenever I'd have them. Then, I'd run to my bathroom to make them stop, all while watching my blood go down the sink like rain. Our teacher taught us how to stop nosebleeds in the first grade. We pinch our nosebridges and tip our head up. That usually worked but sometimes, when things got really bad, all I could do was wait. I'd close the toilet and sit there holding a paper cup under my nose. Then, I'd watch the cup slowly get filled with the rich red liquid, making me get a bit light headed every now and then. I always loved seeing how much blood I'd get because for some reason, seeing blood never fazed me—the most I got was three fourths up my small Dixie cup.

I never thought it was disturbing or anything. I knew the nosebleeds would come soon. I was smarter than they thought,. That's why I barely freaked out when I got them. It was only that one time when I passed out from too much blood loss that mom found me knocked out on my bed with blood all over my face—she freaked out, not me.

"Almost every day… I even had nosebleeds worse than that one.

"Then, why didn't you tell anyone?"

I shrugged. "I could handle them."

Then the awkward nosebleed topic stopped there. We continued to tour the hospital, giving me the time and reason to go back and think about all the times I'd spent there as a kid. As we passed through different rooms, every memory grew clearer and clearer: the x-rays, all the scans, the blood tests, chemo, radiation, transfusions, the IV drips and the horrid hospital meals… they were all quickly coming back to me like an unexpected avalanche.

I took in the sights, the sounds, the smells… It was a weird thing to do, come to think of it but it did help me wallow in self-pity for a bit. Relapse—that word still sends shivers down my spine. I knew how they were usually worse than the first strike. So knowing I'd be in and out of the hospital again, I propped my feet up on the chair, relearning the halls of Nightingale.

Most of it was white—clean walls, clear windows with dustless blinds, benches yellowing from age. Then, I listened for sounds that were so familiar to me, closing my eyes to picture myself as a kid again. The squeak of the wheels beneath me reminded me of how I sat on the firm gurney, nurses' quiet whispers suddenly materialized, harmonizing with the sound of soft footsteps. Then, the whir machines started to join in. The smells all around were the same—antispetic, clean…sad.

Then, I was snapped back into reality as I heard laughter and the faint glow of fun tearing through the depressing halls of the hospital. It was the sound of kids playing and the smell of old books that made me smile. Opening my eyes, I saw a familiar set of red, blue and yellow walls.

"Here! Xan, stop here!"

You smiled at me slightly as you stopped pushing the chair. "A little too old for play time, don't you think, Ari?"

I laughed in reply as you pushed the chair into the playroom.

I looked around at the kids laughing and playing and just being kids. They were just as children as any kid would be but their headscarves and caps and IV poles told a different story. Nightingale had a different playroom and library but this one was special—aside from being sanitized every two hours and having a huge stock room of back up meds and equipment, The Sunny Myers Memorial or Sunny Haven, as the kids knew it was only for kids with cancer.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't little Miss Arielle Hart," a familiar looking nurse said, beaming at me.

I smiled as I saw the very same purple scrubs she used to wear—rubber duckies printed on every inch of it. "Lilly," I exclaimed as she leaned in to hug me. "It's great to see you!'

Nurse Lilly Johansen looked just as she did 7 years ago minus the fine lines under her eyes and a few pounds. She was just starting out as a nurse when I first met her but she was one of the nicest people in the hospital. Now, seeing her nametag, she'd been promoted as the nurse in charge of Sunny Haven.

"I wish I could say the same about you… I was really hoping to see you again, but not this way of course," she said, putting a hand on my shoulder, "Christine and Patty told me you were admitted the moment Xan brought you here… We came to see you as soon as we could but you were asleep."

"Really?" I smiled at the thought, "I should go see Christine and Patty later…You guys were my favorite nurses, by the way," I said, winking at Lilly.

She laughed before saying, "Well, go ahead and play with the Barbies or something. Busy, busy, busy…"

With that, she excused herself. I looked around and saw a few girl in the corner playing with dolls. Then, I grabbed your hand and said, "Xan! Xan! Xan! I have an idea."

You smiled at me, "I thought you weren't feeling well."

"I'm fine," I answered, feeling like I'd regained full strength, "I—I want to dance for the kids."

"Ari, are you sure you're strong enough for that?"

I nodded, "I'll just ask Lilly to take my IV off the heplock for a bit."

After a few minutes of talking to Lilly and convincing you that I was well enough, the kids were all gathered in the big green carpet in the middle of the room.

"Okay, kids, settle down, settle down, settle down," Lilly said, rounding up the kids who seemingly had boundless energy, considering their health. "You're friend Arielle here is going to tell you a story."

A chorus of cheers and yay's greeted me.

"Hey, kids! I'm Arielle and I'm 17 years old. When I was your age, I had acute lymphoblastic leukemia and I was 8 years old back then. Anyone else who's 8 years old here?"

A few hands went up. I smiled and said, "That's cool… Anyone younger than 8?"

4 hands went up but a certain little girl caught my eye. She had a canary yellow headscarf on and pale skin which brought out the electric blue of her eyes. I looked at her for a moment before gently pulling her onto my lap.

"Hey, buddy… What's your name?"

"Gwen…" she answered, smiling shyly at me. "I'm 5."

"Well, Gwen, how would you like to hear a story about a princess and a prince?"

She nodded eagerly.

"Who else wants to hear a story about a princess and a prince?"

Enthusiasm filled the room as kids raised their hands. Even the big kids in the mezzanine looked down to see what all the hullabaloo was about.

"Well, okay!" I smiled, feeling the kids' excitement give me a bit more energy. "Does anyone here know what ballet is?"

Kids started smiling and whispering to each other, raising their arms. Then, I felt Gwen tug lightly on my hospital gown.

"I'm a ballerina," she whispered, smiling at me.

"Really," I smiled at her, straightening out my leggings a bit. "Well, that's awesome! I'm a ballerina too…" Then, turning back to the kids, I asked, "So, ballet is a really nice sort of dance that tells a story."

I looked up and saw you running in with my pointe shoes and my iPod. You made your way through the sea of wide eyed kids and

"Thanks, Xan," I said before going back to looking at the kids. "Alright, so, today, I'm telling you the story called Swan Lake. It's a ballet so it's going to be a bit different… I'm not going to talk to you about the story… Instead, I'm going to dance the story, got it?"

Again, I got applauses and yay's from my toddler audience.

"Okay, okay," I said, tying on my pointe shoes. Then, I turned to Gwen and asked, "Gwen, do you want to dance with me?"

She bit her lip shyly before nodding.

Then there, Lilly removed my IV from the heplock as I started to tell the kids the story of Odette, Siegfried, Rothbart and Odile.

As I started the first dance, the kids' ooh's and aah's started to fade. Even Gwen's clumsy mirroring of my actions eventually blurred away. The only thing running through my mind was the music that reminded me of the days when I first heard of Swan lake.

I was a little girl, lying in bed, trying to hold my breakfast down. I had a chemo session the day before and I was trying to break my record for the longest time of not throwing up—I'd already done 18 hours. I was aiming for 20 this time.

I was already running at 19 hours, which I was extremely proud of. Mom would try to alleviate my nausea by distracting me with stories. It hit me straight in the gut as soon as I heard it.

My 9-year old mind suddenly went into a flurry unconsciously making Swan Lake my own story. I was suddenly Odette cursed to be a swan during the day only to emerge as the girl she was at night. My leukemia was both my curse and Odile, trying to tear Siegfried away from me. Being a 9-year old with no love life whatsoever, Siegfried literally was my life. The one thing I truly loved and held fast to…

None of the moves I did passed through conscious thinking before they were translated into body language. The music and all the thoughts of me taking Odette's story and making it my own suddenly consumed me and brought me to a level of dance that I might as well have considered Nirvana. Everything, even my physical body seemed to disintegrate into a runny-edged blur. It was something I'd never felt before but it was good. I became the swan. I became the music. I was Odette.

I continued to dance until I reached the part where Odette and Siegfried had to die. I did a dramatic chasse before collapsing on the floor, panting and after what felt like an eternity, I finally realized people were still looking at me.

My adrenalin died down and the story that had engulfed me started to fade as quickly as the kids' faces did before.

I got up, sitting back in my chair, breathing heavily. I felt your hands fall on my shoulders, massaging them gently. I looked around and listened. Wide eyes from nurses, kids, teens and parents were on me. The room was silent except for the constant hum and drip and whir of machines in the room. I took a deep breath as Lilly quickly reattached my IV.

"And that's how it was. Odette and Siegfried died in each other's arms only to wake up because the spell was broken by their true love. Odile remained a swan forever and Rothbart—well, you can guess what happened to him." I grinned at my own words before letting words I'd never believe in slip out of my mouth. "And Odette and Siegfried lived happily ever after."

I was met with applause and standing ovations.

Some of the nurses and moms were teary eyed while kids where whooping. The tweens on the mezzanine where gushing over the love story.

You smiled at me as I leaned back into my chair, exhausted. "Beautiful show you put on," you said as you gently wheeled me out into the hall.

"Thanks, Xan. Look, we still have a lot of time. Let's finish this hospital tour," I said, secretly wondering if I could give a performance as good as that ever again.