Jas is married

Reconnected.

She tapped gingerly at the birthing room door announcing herself more so than requesting admission. Unsure of how her visit would be received she tiptoed forward. The postpartum mother lay resting silently. Her eyes nervously scanned the room for the bassinet and new baby - a girl.
She stood unsure of what to do. Lifting the baby could wake the mother. Waking the mother could cause a confrontation. She ached battling her heart and her head searching for why she came, how she could explain herself. Three years were long and silent both women the victims of circumstance. The distance that had grown between them was undeniable.
She turned to leave suddenly ashamed and hoping to make a clean getaway. Just steps from the door, her cell phone betrayed her, startling the mother awake and stirring the girl child.
The mother blinked and wiped away the blur that follows broken sleep. "Have a seat," came the invitation.
"I'm sorry," was her stuttered reply, "I had to come."
"I'm glad you did. Stay a bit. Meet my daughter."
With this gentle exchange all the tension melted. She belonged with them and them with her.

Pin cushion.

The putrid grey walls were institutional. The air was cold. The room lacked both personality and character. A lone table occupied its middle as the patient, filled with trepidation, lay on it. The fluorescent light on the ceiling flickered a warning of what was to come. Its own Morse code.
The doctor entered with a calmness and confidence. It was but a moment while she prepared her tools, a dozen sterilized needles and an alcohol swab. She quickly located the required points along the patient's meridian lines and awakened each one with precision and speed. Not five minutes from when she first walked in, the doctor was walking out. Now it was up to the body's elements to awaken and restore its energies.
As the door was closing, the doctor turned off the lights. The patient left behind. With only thoughts and darkness - both nightmares and dreams.
And the clock ticked on.

Arrogance.

The three piece Armani suit was expertly pressed and coordinated. His shirt was extra starched. The loafers were spit polished to shine. He had long accepted the short comings of his chosen career focusing instead on the glamour and controversy he knew he was capable of.
With his locked leather briefcase in hand he climbed into the driver's seat of his Jaguar XJ. One hour before his big performance.
Just his luck, traffic was light and parking found quick. He slipped in the back door not wanting to compromise his grand entrance. Through the back halls he waltzed. This twisted dance he had long learned all the steps to led him in. Time was essential. Delivery demanded precision, accuracy and a pound of charisma.
While sipping a grande Starbucks extra shot latte in the prep room, he checked his teeth for traces of breakfast. Finding none, he set down his cup, picked up his case file, straightened his tie and winked at his reflection. It was time.
He crossed the front of the room to take his seat already annoyed with the formalities that would fast follow. He ignored the whispers in the crowd.
Once everyone was seated again he paused a moment, then stood. With a strong, solid voice he declared, "Your honour, the defense would like to call..."

Blue.

His sky blue eyes twinkled like stars in the night. That little dimple pinched in his cheeks as his joker's smile stretched across his lips. His hands quickly and efficiently switched his day clothes for jammies, dark blue fleece - his favorite. As he bounced into bed, those toothpick arms reached out still wanting a hug and a goodnight kiss.
Too soon this sweet child will trade in the tiny toy cars for keys to ours. Tucking him in will transpire into waiting up for his safe return home. Tonight I savoured the moment and soaked in all of what was before me. I've branded with words the image.
Moments before we were snuggled together on the worn blue sofa. The Where's Waldo book was spread open across our laps as we giggled about the characters and the silly things they were doing. He mentioned that the book needed to be returned to the school library. I wiped away a silent tear that threatened to ruin this moment with him.
Time has too quickly transformed yesterday's sweet new baby into a curious child learning how the world turns. I can only imagine what new ideas will plant their seeds in his hear before morning. I hope when we wake he will still be small enough to hold my hand. I hope he will still look for me in the crowd. I wonder if his favorite colour will still be blue.

Newness.

There was just something about the way his calloused strong hands were holding her tiny newness that begged a silent moment of attention. The wonder in his eyes as he drank her in was mystical. She encouraged him with her coos and soft blinks that only new eyes know. The amazement shone from within his heart. His love poured out as he brought her in close to his cheek. Their warmth was one. With her ear at his lips he whispered, "Hello, Daughter."