A MEMORY FROM BEFORE YOU WERE BORN (By Silvia F.)

The sun is setting, and I have to go. You say: ”you have to go”.
I know.
I don’t want to, but I know. I hug you tight. I breathe in. I hold you pressed onto my chest listening to your heart against mine. I exhale. 
I let you go, turn around and start walking. 
Downhill.

The forest is thick. There’s no path, but I know. Always walk downhill. 
As the sky gets darker it becomes a slow go. I try to find a way through the forest. 
I slip, but don’t fall. I slow down. Then I turn right.  There’s something there. 
An opening on the side of the mountain. 
I get in and It’s dark. 
I feel safe. I will spend the night here. 
As the thought forms in my head, and reaches my consciousness, I know there’s someone here with me. I squint but the darkness is too thick to obliterate. 
I listen. It’s safe.
I lay on the dirt and fall asleep. There are no dreams in my head, no wishes in my heart. I think of the last breath we shared, your heart. I miss you already. 

Then light seeps into the opening. I see it through the eyelids. 
I open my eyes onto a kneeling man. He smiles.  
“You have to go” he says. 
“I know”. 
I get up and as I leave, he says: “good luck” behind me.

The way down is steep, I have to catch me from falling. 
I zig zag through the trees to the sheer rock of the cliff. It gets harder. So much harder. 
I kick rocks down. They roll, but I can’t see where they fall. 
I don’t hear them hitting the ground below.

I have to go. Down. Further down. Carefully, as not to lose my life before it begins.

They are waiting for me. I cannot make them wait any longer. 
If I rush, I will get hurt. The hurt will last my life. 
I want to slow down. But if I’m late they will not wait. 
Life will take them somewhere else, and I will not be born.

I have to run. I trip and fall. I hurt my chest. My heart stops for a moment. 
I gasp. 
I’m dead. 
How can I be dead before I am born? I want to be born. 
I focus in the darkness of death and find the way back. 

I open my eyes to the sky above me. It’s blue. 

I see the sun. I will make it.

I struggle up. I walk again. Downhill. For days. 

Until I’m there. Here.

It’s a wooden cabin, the light is on inside. In front there’s a garden of red geraniums. 

So very red. I knock on the door. My father opens. He looks through me. Puzzled. 

I walk in. 

My brother is sitting on the floor playing. He is so very little. Two. 

I walk to my room. I open the door, and there I am. 

In my mother’s arms. I can feel her love. I’m wrapped in a white wool blanket. 

My grandmother knitted it. It smells like my mother’s skin. It’s soft like her kisses. 

Next to her I see a crib of petals. They are the red petals from the flowers upfront. 

They’re soft and smell like home.

They’ve been waiting for me, and I’ve made it in time. 

The injuries of my journey here will try to kill me before I see you again. 

But I know I will see you again. 

I will wait for 7 years for you to be born. 

Then I will wait for 20; for me to fly to where you are. 

Then another 7, to meet you. 

Every day, from now until then, I will forget about you a little. 

Until you will be completely erased. Will I recognize that it’s you? Will you recognize me? 

I hope. But I know that I will never stop searching for you. Once I find you, I will hold on to our lives for as long as I can. 

And when I die, I will wait for you. For as long as it takes. So that we can do this all over again.

Because I belong to you.

Written by S.F.