The mystery of why she was not a heap of flesh and clothes upon the soil could only be answered by the frozenness of her nerves. She felt depths of numbness never conceived before. Her immobile gaze fixed on the far distance as if she were seeing a different world; her brain refusing to register what was before her. Time seemed to cease.
Her breast began to ache as she remembered the sweet smell of baby wafting up as she nursed. The peaceful joy of those moments was forever etched in her brain. A faint smile almost penetrated her vacant countenance. Her hands began to rise slowly, as if to hold him once more, only to display the covering of dried stains of a life taken. Spontaneously, she looked down. The vision of soft skin and curling hair was replaced with the blood-soaked smears across her robe; the smell of copper now replacing the fragrance of new life.
Her shattered mind remembered his fall from the ladder as he helped his father, the blood flowing from his scraped knees and hands, as tears appeared in his eyes. She bathed his wounds with the towel in her hand as she soothed him with gentle words. Her reward was his tender smile as he gazed up at her, warming her heart. And just as quickly, the gaze reversed, now looking down upon her as his blood continued to flow from his legs and arms as well as his face and chest. Her thoughts kept asking, "Where did my towel go? I needed a towel."
His laughter rang out in her memory as a teen, although he was showing the wisdom of a man. His infectious joy was always unfettered and easily invoked. And her playful chiding only encouraged him to banter more. Now, what should have been a chuckle only expressed as a low, painful moan as her constricted throat refused to allow any joy to pass. Her hands clenched into fists as the numbness was transforming down her chest into a stricture, as if a snake slowly coiled around her to take her life. Heaves of despair began pulsing from her chest, as all her will focused on simply breathing. Air barely passed through her parted lips, with her lungs refusing to expand.
My son, my beautiful, precious son!
A large, white dove flew before her, breaking her trance. His melodic coos filled her ears as her eyes traced his path upward. The labor of her breathing slowly eased as her hands relaxed, her arms slowly descending to her side. "No," she thought, "not solely my son."
The sun had disappeared over the horizon. The twilight allowed her to see a man with dark hair and sun-bathed skin walking toward her at a distance. She fantasized for a fraction of a second, asking if it was him returning. Of course it was not: John was coming back to escort her … escort her where? She had no home here.
The uncertainty of where she was going paired with the onset of weakness spreading throughout her limbs from the lack of nourishment and the sustained stress over the last two days. Hesitantly, she took two uncertain steps forward. Lightheadedness invaded; nevertheless, she forced herself to continue with unsteady steps down the path. Within minutes, John's arms circled her, preventing her from falling. Without thought and seemingly coming from far away, she heard her voice, "Your brother is gone from us," as the pent-up tears finally found their escape.
