The small pleasures of my life.

Over the last couple of days, I have not been able to write a word. I've felt choked, cut off, asphyxiated. In fact, I was turning blue for lack of words.
Mercifully, this morning I had a lifeline. Intubated, words slowly crept up my veins through to my head, giving me a fresh breath. I cannot really say much about that here, because I'm writing about my morning experience in the paper. Let it suffice to say that I met a baby the size of my palm, with a hole in her heart and a faulty heart valve who had fought so hard to survive, that you wondered if her parents had named her Krishna because she was an avatar of the Lord himself.
As she lay there, on the warmer, breathing hard after her feed, I looked at her and she looked at me for what seemed ages and then, smiled a small smile at me. At that moment, a small pleasure curved up my spine washing a path through my lethargy, my sluggishness, my ennui; arching itself in my in my head; leaving a shimmering trail that felt good where it touched and it touched everywhere.
A flood of words gushes from me now. I can write again.