This is actually a short story fiction I wrote. I started writing it a while ago and I have a little bit of a rough draft on this site. I thought I'd post the final version again.
June ran, laughing through the warm rain. It was monsoon season in Tucson, Arizona. For a 5 year old, that meant splashing through puddles and getting soaked while running around through the much needed rain. A miracle takes place in the desert after a rain. The dry land brings forth growth, and the brown turns hues of green. The long dormant cactus, blossoms, and sometimes you can catch a glimpse of a flower that blooms every hundred years. Death becomes life in the miracle of the downpour, and laughter springs forth from lips of children as they revel in the warm drops around them.
And, as inevitably happens with a child, a slip through the mud sent June inside with tears to her mother. June's mother held her tight, dried her tears and kissed her sores. She wrapped her in her warm arms, and June felt the warmth of love emanate from them. Then her mom began a story that June had heard quite often during frightening nights and tearful sobs. June's mom began to tell her that it was when she was lost, it was love that found her and brought her back. Thus began the tale of June's birth.
Her mother told her, that at one point she looked up as the midwife turned briefly from her side and begged her not to go. The thought that her midwife might leave drove panic into her mind, and she clung to her arm and looked at her eyes as another pain pulled her into herself. Her midwife understood where she had to go, and she allowed her to go there. Lights were dimmed and voices hushed as a woman was beginning her transformation into motherhood.
It's hard to understand from the outside where a woman goes as a pain passes through her, while her new child is making their way into this world. Her eyes close. Slow moans leave her throat. The rest of the world is blotted out as the wave rolls through her, peaks, and slowly subsides. Then the hand on another's arm is noticed once more. There is gratitude for the presence of another as she prepares herself for the roll of another wave.
The midwife looked down on this young woman, bringing life for the first time, and was filled with an immense amount of love and gratitude for what she was doing. She stayed there. Just to catch her eye at the end of each contraction. She would softly listen to the rhythmic beat of the babies heart to ensure the child was safe, and then sit on the chair by the mother's side. Occasionally she would lean in with her weight on the mother's knees to relive some pressure during the peak. June's mom would say that her touch was filled with love, and that love was her balm. She then found the courage to fill her own soul with love. Then she allowed that love to flow around her child as the baby moved it's way into this world with a big belly cry. With a smile, the midwife faced the new mother and told her, “You did that so well, I think you could have 12 more of these babies”. A slow smile crept across the mothers face, as she let the love of her child soak into her soul.
June allowed that love to surround her there, sitting on her mothers knee and it slowly lulled her to sleep while the water poured on the ground, getting ready to bring the green of the monsoon rains.
