Unexpected Arrival

I would never forget the day my daughter was born. She arrived a little early, or a lot early, so early in fact that we weren’t even at home. We were in the middle of our annual family skiing trip, the uncles zooming down the slopes, the little cousins on their snowboards, me and her taking it easy in the mountain-top chalet when her waters suddenly broke. Of course, this wasn’t to be the biggest shock of the day, as this was also the day the asteroid was detected. It was hurtling directly towards us, its trajectory certain to strike our innocent little planet in the very near future. My wife was still sleeping in her hospital bed when they announced it, the news interrupting all scheduled programming on every TV worldwide, our Alpine hospital room no exception. I heard the chaos unfolding outside. Crashing, raised voices, ever growing panic. But my wife was still asleep. And so was my tiny daughter. I sat and watched them, as the TV announced the timeline for the end of the world. Words like “unavoidable” “completely inevitable” “total cataclysm” barked into the room. I looked at my daughter. I looked at my wife. She was beginning to stir. I turned off the TV.