Q&A: What’s Your Reaction to This?

Question by bluetigerpaw4: What’s your reaction to this?
This is a story my mother tells me every Christmas. I tried to do it in her exact words, but I probably didn’t get it right, and the spelling might not be accurate. I skipped some parts of the birth that I forgot, but hopefully its still a great story. Enjoy 🙂

I was walking along an abandoned street one night. It was around one in the morning, and it was very cold. You might think its strange I was out that late, but I do it every night. I love the stars and the quiet of the night. It’s the only time I get to be myself. Everyday, I put up an act. I act like I love my life and my job and my friends. But to be honest, I never fit in anywhere. People might think I am so happy and live life to its fullest, but everyday I fight to not break down and just cry. But I can’t let them see the real me. If they did, they would run.
Like every night, I thought of my mother. My mother died giving birth to my sister. I was three. My sister was a criminal – she murdered, stole, and took meth underage. My mother was a good person. Selfless, kind, and took joy out of helping others. So the good live, while the bad thrive? That is why I hated life. I hated everything about it. People who didn’t deserve to die died. People who didn’t deserved to live, lived on. It’s an ugly, menacing, thing, life is. I hated it, and wanted it to end. Not just mine, but everyone’s. Humans are cruel, menacing, manipulative creatures who live for themselves.
“Excuse me, Miss!” I turned around abruptly to find an old man (maybe 50 or so) panting and sweating, wearing a nightgown and slippers. “You must come! Please!” He took off running. When I didn’t follow, he called out, “This way!” beckoning with his hand.
I was extremely angry with this stranger for interupting my “me” time. It’s my life – does he think his is any more important? Twit. “Seems I don’t have a choice,” I grumbled and quickly followed before he noticed my delay.
He led me to an old house. It was pale yellow, and very old-fashioned. I didn’t have much time to look, though. I was in the door in seconds. I heard screaming upstairs.
“What’s going on?” I asked the man. I needed to know. There was something very errie and familiar about this situation.
“My wife,” he gasped, “I think she’s-”
“Dan!” the woman screamed. The man glanced anxiously upstairs.
“You can tell me later,” I assured him quickly before he had an anxiety attack. “How can I help?”
“Upstairs,” he told me, then added, “please.”
I walked up the stairs, two at a time, and then I was at the top. “Which-” I started to call, but was interupted by screaming. I followed the sound until I approached a bedroom. Not bothering to knock, I walked in.
A woman was laying on the bed, her legs spread apart. She was sweating and panting like mad. And then it hit me what was wrong. Why it was so familiar. The woman was having a baby.
Then I noticed a little boy, maybe about four years old, kneeling by the woman’s side. He was holding her hand, whispering, “Mommy?” over and over again. Oh my god. The boy was me. That was me twenty some years ago. It was like something came over me. Like this new feeling I wasn’t used to, this feeling of control.
I rushed over to the women, and told her instructions that I learned from my friend, a medical graduate. She starting pushing. I kept encouraging her, whispering soothing words, while she kept pushing. I ordered Dan to get ready to pull the baby out. After countless minutes, Dan yelled, “I see a foot!”

* * * * * *

The next thing I knew I was holding the baby in my arms, gazing at its tiny head and body. Who ever knew that something so tiny could be breathing? I never would have believed something so tiny could exist…and so beautiful.
“Melanie,” I whispered the tiny esquisite creature’s name.
It turned its perfect head to look at me. Her big brown eyes gazed up at me adoringly. I smiled at her. She truly was beatiful. I touched her waxy cheek, and she giggled. What a significant and harmonious sound that was. It was then that I learned something I will never forget: Life is beautiful.

Best answer:

Answer by ToKiO_dRaGoN
thats a nice story 🙂
thanx 4 sharing it 😛

-ToKiO dRaGoN

Give your answer to this question below!