Just Perfect

I don’t know where I’m going. I really don’t. That’s the difficulty with a memory that comes and goes. And time has obviously been sucked in to something that has imploded in my brain. I fade in, I fade out, with not enough minutes ticking by to register who I am or where I am, so no wonder my destiny is a blur.

I know who I used to be, when the vagaries of time were less pronounced and seemingly linear. It was easier to function then. Sequential events gave a feeling of security. There were arms, too, that wrapped around me and hands that touched me; they too gave me security and warmth. Lots of it.

And I can remember my name. It was Jimmy. I had red hair, and freckles. Oh, and a cheeky grin that apparently endeared me to everyone who saw me. I remember all those nice feelings but wish I didn’t remember the not-so-nice ones. My body would not perform as directed. Something was wrong. I remember seeing doctors, white-coated and smiley, who gave my condition a name that was hard to pronounce. I still can’t pronounce it, even in these moments of superior knowledge and lucidity. And those closest to me, the ones I called parents, could not pronounce it either – maybe it was because they just didn’t want to.

There weren’t many birthdays, four to be exact, just as I’d started to find some movement in my left arm and hand. The doctors had called me a paradox and everyone appeared joyful and pleased. I didn’t even know what the word meant but I do know that I received even more kisses and hugs than I normally did. But the joy was short lived; I deteriorated rapidly after that and then I was gone. Again a blur but I do remember calling out to those who wept: ‘I’m here, I’m okay. It’s not me in that box’. But they didn’t hear me or perhaps they weren’t listening hard enough.

I waited for a while – long enough to see the remains of my birthday cake, wrapped lovingly in tissue, and stored in a tin. It stayed there for ages until someone dropped the tin and the crumbs scattered everywhere. Such a waste – I wish they had given it to the birds. I really liked birds. I’d watched them from a little window, flying up towards the sun and feeling its comforting warmth on their wings. They must have felt the same as I did when hands stroked my arms and face and sometimes wiped away my tears when I tried to hard to move and realised I couldn’t.

There are no birds here though, no sun either.  I feel a force constantly pushing me. Suddenly there’s light. Intense. Blinding. It feels colder but I feel the touch of warm hands. I'm being lifted, wrapped and placed on something soft. Everything looks so new and fresh and yet comfortingly familiar. Still not sure of what is happening to me, I try to take in my surroundings and make sense of my whereabouts before my memory fades again. I have a feeling it may not come back for a long, long time.

A female voice, soft and soothing, speaks gently, rippling into my heart rhythm as though it is part of me. ‘I wish Jimmy was here to see his little newborn sister. Look at her Don, she has the same cheeky smile that Jimmy had. Funny, but I knew she would be okay. There was no need for the doctors to have carried out all those tests.’

There was a sigh then, and a male voice spoke, in a voice choked with emotion:‘It was the sensible thing to do, but in my heart I knew, just as you did, that our daughter would be...just perfect.’