So He and I talk for a bit. Honestly, I don’t get much of it. He’s one of those lofty types, with high-minded notions and sad faces. Eventually, he booms out something about me “getting it eventually”, and I’m escorted away.
And then.. there it is again. All I see is sky. Blue sky, and white window frames, and people everywhere in white robes. And that beatific chick. Though she sure does look exhausted now.
Then I recognise her, behind new expressions. “Mom!” I cry. “Mom!” But she just stares, until her wails of excitement and joy drown out any cries my little lungs can produce. It’s Mom. Alive.
I remember watching her then, her long years of struggle, her pain, all gone effortlessly in a moment of shear love. I looked around, seeing that same love on the midwife’s face, and Dads. I didn’t know Dad even had that in him.
That same look on every face, connecting us all. Fearless, boundless joy; pure happiness.. love. How had I not seen this? At last, I “get it”. This time, I know, life will be good.