The Warm Snow

Prologue

I remember the rush of the stretcher through the hospital's corridors. The sound of its wheels, the hurried footsteps of the people who surrounded me. I saw then blurred but I still could tell apart my parents, both with worried expressions on their faces, and three or four sanitary personnel. 

All running, I was even tempted to think that at least I could feel more alive than I ever felt. The white lights linguered over me.

Then I think I heard my mom telling me that all would be alright,  while she squezed my right hand between hers. Maybe I would have believed in her words if the tears on her face didn't form two rivers under her eyes.

I breathed the oxygen that was introduced in myself through a mask.
My father was holding my other hand, and even though he was more composed that mum, I could tell he was fighting with himself to not shed tears.

Contrary to them, I was quite calm. I always knew that I would not live enough to have grey or white hairs. There was a time I was depressed over that fact but, after I had an attack because of that,  I decided that I would live wathever little time I had to the fullest. So I finally acepted it. And since then, I was in peace with myself.
Sure I would miss my parents and all the people that loved me, but even I could not do anything about it.

The people who directed the stretcher talked, about my condition and exchanged looks just before passing through the doors that I assumed leaded to the surgery room.
For scarce seconds, I looked at my parents that were stopped right before the doors, my father supporting my mother from behind,  who was still with her hand extended in my direction.

In that second, I said goodbye to them in my mind; to my family,  friends, teachers and all who helped and cherished me. 
I said goodbye to my life. 

Then, my eyes closed.

And when they opened again,  something changed in me. But I still would need more time to discover what it was.