I walked down the hospital corridor. Why are they always horrible colors? I have been a nurse for many years and cannot figure out who designs and decorates these places. It is 3 a.m. and a fairly quiet night. The night nurses on this side of the world are probably making rounds just like me (yes, nurses still make rounds). Some of the patients sleep the sleep of the medicated. Certain ones sleep the sleep of relief and some toss restlessly about their beds trying to obtain the peace of sleep.
I turn the corner and that is when I hear the beautiful singing. I think it must be someone’s TV or a CD. In the room it is dark but for a sliver of yellow light from the cracked bathroom door. I am surprised to see a lovely elderly woman, her bed in the sitting position, singing. Wispy loosened silver hair straggle out of the bun at the nape of her neck. Her hooded eye lids cannot hide the shine of her chocolate brown eyes.

She is singing in Italian and I cannot understand a word but from the passion and inflections in her voice I can recognize “Joy”. There is a tear in her eye and one moving down her cheek and she is smiling. I am too stunned to move yet somehow I know without doubt her song will go on forever now…