The child was born precisely at midnight, at the very moment the digital clock in the delivery room blinked from 23:59 to 00:00 with its soft green light. The doctor and midwife exchanged worried glances, while the on-duty paediatrician quickly scooped up the motionless, bluish little body and hurried to the changing table, instantly reaching for the suction device. The baby wasnt breathing. Lying on the bed, the mother turned her head slightly, watching the doctors actions with detached indifference.
Maybe hes dead? He isnt crying… thoughts drifted through her mind, dulled by the all-consuming pain just endured. At last, the newborn let out a faint, fragile squeak, growing in strength until it became a strong, ringing cry that echoed down the quiet, sleeping corridors of the maternity ward. The doctor, midwife, and paediatrician stood silently around the baby, studying him with intense concentration.
He was different, this child. His spine, reaching up to his shoulder blades, bent in such an unusual way that two almost symmetrical, elongated humps stretched down to the middle of his chest.
How is this possible? repeated the astonished paediatrician. Ive never, ever seen anything like this before. It simply cannot be… simply impossible…
When Janes doctor visited her that morning to explain her newborn sons condition, she simply curled her lips in disgust. So, hes a freak as well? I didnt even want a healthy baby, let alone this… she muttered.
No, take him wherever you want. I dont want anything to do with it. Bring me the paperworkIll sign the abandonment forms right away… So, at the appointed time, she left the hospital light-hearted, unmoved, free of any burden, while her son remained behind, knowing nothing of his mothers betrayal.
At the childrens home, he was given the name Jamie. Yes, Jamie, and nothing else. The staff dressed him in loose, oversized shirts, hoping his difference wouldnt be so obvious.
Even with a perfect figure, Jamie would have stood apart from the other shouting, fighting, endlessly squabbling children. There was a seriousness in his blue eyes, shaded by long, dark lashes, not often found in someone so young.
Quite often, he would stand by the window, listening intently to something within himself, straining painfully to grasp and understand something just out of reach.
One day, as the column of two-year-olds stumbled along to some event, Jamie heard IT. Through the half-open door of the headmistresss office drifted music. It was unlike the childrens songs hed heard in their classes, marching in circles like soldiers, swinging their weak little arms and lifting clumsy legs. It was more like… the wind. A warm, gentle wind lifting you up, carrying you softly, rocking and soothing you to sleep…
It held no wordsjust a living soul, whispering things no one else could hear or needed to knowthings meant just for Jamie.
He stopped right in the middle of the corridor, causing chaos in the carefully ordered line, swaying gently to the music while other little ones collided with him and the carers tried, unsuccessfully, to shift him from his place.
Suddenly, everything made sense inside his small head. What hed strained to hear in his orphan friends cries, in the whistling winds, in the radiator pipesthis was her, his Music…
Sophie and David visited every nearby childrens home. Sophies congenital condition meant she couldnt have biological children. Together, theyd decided to adopt. Their paperwork was finished, their parenting classes passedbut they still faced a choice. What would THEIR child be like? You dont choose your own children; you love them as they arebut here… among all these little lives deprived of parental warmth, they just hadnt seen their child yet.
Hand in hand, they approached the childrens home gates. Toddlers bustled in the sandpit, girls pushed dolls in pramsordinary scenes of noisy, happy childhood. But one child, wrapped in an oversized coat, stood off to one side, listening intently to a sparrow chirruping in a branch.
Just then, Sophies phone rangher ringtone was a piece by Mozart. She was a lover of classical music. The boyhe trembled as if a spotlight had beamed in his eyes, and began to sway in time with the music, perfectly matching the rhythm and tempo. Sophie and David stood rooted to the spot, utterly ignoring the still-ringing phone.
They saw him. Their son. A kindred spirit shining from his eyes…
Yes, I know hes unwell, disabled even… Yes, I accept the responsibility… Yes, of course well do rehabilitation, Sophie told the headmistress for the umpteenth time, though she was strongly encouraged to choose a healthier child. But you dont choose your own; you love them. I will take him, no matter what.
Mummy? Jamie left the piano and rested his head on Sophies hand. Why am I like this? Why am I not like the others?
Sophie gently stroked his misshapen back. You see, darling, were all differentinside and out. You, me, and your daddy too. And do you remember what I said about your back? Those are wings, sweetheart. Angels wings that havent spread open yetbut they will, they will, I promise.
She hugged him close, kissing the top of his warm head, before sitting beside him at the piano. Together, they played; and Jamies music was richer than many grown musicians could achieve.
Behind him, wings truly spreadseen only by Mum, Dad, and Jamies guardian angel, who smiled down on him. And the music poured out, a broad, mighty river, gently rocking Jamie in its waves, filling his world with happiness.
We are all born different, but love and music can make us soar higher than we ever thought possiblesometimes, our truest wings are the ones that only kindness can help us see.
