Lessons at Midnight

The womb felt nice and warm; snug and happy, all the embryonic fluid moving in and out of my lungs. It felt strange to be back in form but at the same time, I was happy to be returning. I had unfinished business with her and I was determined to set things straight. How I perceived (straight) was another matter, but when you’re floating around in the weigh station of souls, nothing seems straight until sperm hits the egg.

I liked this new place of growth, listening to her voice sing to me and tell me of all the wonderful things we would do together. She was young and foolish, thinking a child would make her life seem more desirable. She was alone in the world; abandoned by the sperm supplier after a drunken party and date rape. I knew she wanted to get loaded right now. I had enjoyed our numerous times of drug induced euphoria together. Her songs were always sad but her voice lilted; sweet and forlorn. It reminded me of empty nights along the road; coffee and cigarette’s and a life devoted to the written word. I would see fragments of it and others as I moved in and out of consciousness with her.

It was time to leave.

I burst upon the scene covered in blood and fluid, screaming at the top of my lungs. I suddenly remembered how fucked it was here on earth and couldn’t understand how I had agreed to make another appearance. The doctor was inexperienced, working on his internship. She was low priority because she was without insurance, and there had been complications. They all stood around looking at me and speaking in hushed whispers. I wasn’t sure what my APGAR score was and perhaps it was another life of disfigurement. I had had one of those previously, due to lessons needed to be learned. It’s painful being shunned by the masses, for being less than perfect in an extreme example. But it’s always that way with self centered humans; wanting perfection where none can be found. This same mother of another life had no patience for my hideous appearance and left me to fend for myself at the steps of a church; another story that rings true in the midnights of Paris.

No, this was something else. Suddenly, I felt myself detaching from my tiny body. They refused to let her hold me. The clock struck midnight. For a moment I heard the church bells again. I was up on the ceiling looking down at the small room; without regret, without emotion of any kind. They laid me down and began working on the lifeless frame. I watched for another moment and sensed her pain as she wailed out and begged God for forgiveness. I wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter and all was right with the world. Our lesson was one of deep meaning and brevity. Not all lessons learned are of the educational variety. Sometimes the hardest lessons come like lightning, leaving you to wonder at the power and significance.

There was a moment, when I thought I would re enter the small fleshy form, but I turned and followed the light back to the weigh station and the next waiting period. I had a single thought that crept into my mind; one of hope to move on and be done with all of it, waking up from one very long dream.