Meeting Mother

The transition from death to life was far more gradual than that from life to death. I guess it makes sense. Torn from life, but built brick by molecular brick into life. I wasn't sure when I became conscious of the darkness, or the floating sensation. I think it was the first time a light flickered. Not to be too simple, but I think it was the contrast between light and dark that finally encouraged awareness.

Next came the panic. I had been calm before I had been aware. Maybe if I didn't remember lying on my deathbed, or talking to strange green Farrelly, then I wouldn't have had reason to be panicked. Contrast drives everything.

It was dark. I couldn't move. This was worse than any of my days as an old woman – I can't walk, I can't speak, I can barely tell that I'm breathing! Am I breathing? Oh god – am I breathing?!

'Help me! Help me! Get me out of here!' I tried to remember how to kick or punch. Something seemed to react to my thoughts. Was it my environment or was it me? It was like that person's gray robe, all the sensations melding into one. No! I was separate from my environment! What if I had been become a part of the environment? When I said that I wanted my ashes returned to the earth, I didn't mean that I wanted to experience it!

'HELP ME!'

"What? What's going on?" The voice came from a distance, quiet and possibly too far away to help, but it was something. There was someone!

'HELP ME! Please! I don't know what's going on! HELP!'

"What?" Could this guy not see me? No, he had to see me. He was the only one I could rely on. "Wait, you… are you…? Hold on, calm down! Don't move! I'll get someone. Just wait. Hold on…"

He was gone. I only realized that I could feel his presence when he left. Not feel, necessarily, but it became brighter when he left. The light should have been comforting. I wished I could concentrate on my breathing. Was I breathing? If I wasn't breathing, then what was going on? I had never experienced anything like this; I didn't like it. I don't like. I don't like it. I don't like it. You stupid non-god, kill me properly or reincarnate me properly. I don't like it. I don't like it.

'I don't like it…' I wished I could cry so that I could release the terror crushing me.

The light disappeared and in exchange a gentle voice resonated through my thoughts.

'Shhh, my baby. You're okay.' Her voice fulfilled my desire for breathing. 'You're safe.'

'What's going on? Who are you?' Please ease my terror, please save me from my panic. In this environment I have nothing else but my emotions. Give me something nice to rely on.

Chuckles rippled. 'I'm your mother, sweetheart.'

'My mother? Am I a baby? I don't feel like a baby…'

'What do you feel like, then?' She sounded genuinely curious.

'Um… an amoeba?'

'And what is that?'

I tried to project an image from my granddaughter's high school biology textbook. Actually, it looked a lot like the Farrelly's egg chair.

'Hm.' The image was plucked from my mind. 'An interesting idea,' my so-called mother commented. 'Not quite accurate, though. This is not hominid, correct? You just haven't been born yet.'

Something didn't seem right. 'Unborn babies can't talk.'

'Well, it depends. Do you remember a past life?'

In for a penny, in for a pound. She seemed pretty sound.

'Yes. Everything. I was told that I was going to reincarnate, but this doesn't seem right. Is this normal?'

She laughed. 'It's normal, but rare. I've only heard about this happening. You must be very shocked.'

'How about you? I'm sure you weren't expecting an 84-year-old granny for your new baby. You seem to be taking this a little too well. Did you know this was going to happen?'

'Not at all,' she replied. 'It doesn't matter, though; you're still my baby. I'll take care of you and love you.'

'You're… very accepting.'

'Of course.'

We shared a moment of silence. Then I remembered that I couldn't breathe. But I guess it's okay? She said she was going to protect me. I wonder how long I would be like this.

'Now, my baby, it's time for you to sleep again. Trust in me. Let it go. Sleep.'

Her baby. I went from old granny to an embryo. How weird. Now that she mentioned it, I did feel drained. It's all right. I'm supposed to be tired. As long as I could remember that it's all normal, then I could avoid the panic. Maybe I could even enjoy it. It's not every day that you can do absolutely nothing but exist.