I was seven when they started taking children. I remember it because it was right after my birthday that everyone started to get sick.

First, it was the little ones; I remember hearing their cries one night, doors opening and slamming shut than opening again, nurses rushing past our beds with armfuls of blankets and fresh sheets and needles, some carried screaming babies, their tiny legs kicking violently in the air, like a turned over deer trying to kick herself up- then a nurse would pass by with a bundle wrapped in sheets, little arms dangling down from the linens, and tears ran down the nurses face.

Within a few days, the whole orphanage was sick; everybody was coughing and crying. Nurses had started to leave; the crying and screaming was too much for them, it got in their heads.

I didn't care about the noise, I felt I couldn't complain; I was one of the few who didn't get sick. Instead, I would try to help those who were in bed with wracking coughs and boiling fevers, trying to bring them blankets and toys to cheer them up. But the nurses said I was just getting in the way. So I stayed by my bed, listening to sobs echo off of the thick, concrete walls.


And then the silence came.


All of those who had been sick fell into a deep, restless sleep; some were still, lying straight like a sheet of metal. Others looked like they were dreaming a nightmare that they couldn't wake up from; they were turning over in bed, their eyes squeezed shut, their whole face was wet with sweat. Some made little grunts in their sleep, some made whimpers, but most were silent.

The nurses didn't know what to do, nobody was sick anymore, but nobody was waking up. I would walk around the room trying to do what I could to help, making sure nobody was having one of those bad dreams. If someone was, I would sit by their bed and hold there hand until they stopped shaking.

Soon the other kids, the ones who never got sick, all joined in too. We would all be sitting in absolute silence holding a sick kid's hand or stroking their arm, anything to make them feel better. My friend, Rosa, told me later that she told them stories about the gods and goddesses. She said that when started talking, no matter how sick or nightmarish they were, they would always settle down.

At times, it seemed hopeless. After days and days, it seemed like no one would ever wake up. But when I felt that feeling of helplessness, I would look up and see an orphan holding onto the hand of another they barely knew, and I found strength; what I saw in them was an angel, a brave, beautiful angel bending over the bed of a sleeping babe to whisper in their ear "Don't worry, everything is going to be okay. I'm here to protect you."

I had always wished that I had an angel, someone who would watch over me and protect me. I like to think that I fulfilled one of those kids' wish but I guess I'll never really know.

Then one day, it finally happened. It started with one, like most things always do, and then like dominos, they all started waking up.

They were all awake within hours and suddenly the hall was animated with life again! The sick kids were stretching and yawning and groaning, their voices quickly over powering the silence that had lingered here the past two weeks. The other healthy ones and I, along with the few nurses who had stayed, rushed around the bustling room bringing cups of water and pieces of bread those waking up

We couldn't believe our eyes, all of the kids were back to normal, it was like they had never even been sick. Most of them didn't even remember much of being sick, at least not the big sleep and the bad dreams.

Nobody slept the night that everyone had come out of the slumber. All of us, the sick kids and the healthy, the sleepy and wide awake, were just too overcome with happiness and energy to ever think of laying down and going back to sleep. I felt that after those two weeks, all of us in the Orphanage had all grown a lot closer: We finally felt like a family. Those who had been sick had thanked us for taking care of them, though they didn't remember much of what we did. Still, it's the most wonderful feeling.. I've been at this orphanage for for three years now and this is the first time Ive ever felt wanted.

That night we all sat on our beds talking and laughing, I was so happy to have everyone back. None of the kids in the Great Hall had died and all had waken up as healthy as they had been before they got sick. I never thought how scared I would be of losing them.. I guess that saying is right: that you never really know what you've got until its gone.
And one week later, three of us were gone.