300 Days of Writing
Day 26 From the Past:
In my great-grandmother’s journal, I found a story. A story of birth, a story of death, a story of resurrection.
Giving birth to her fifth son, she was fading. The pain was severe and she wrote that she stood up and left her body behind. Leaving behind the pain and blood.
As she walked away from it, she passed a man.
“Where are you going?” he asked her.
“I just left that body back there.”
She described his face in detail. His sorrowful look. His loneliness. “But that’s where I’m going,” he said, walking past her and leaving her behind.
Her sadness and guilt as she watched him go, compelled her to follow him, and though she nearly died giving birth to him, she came back, powered through, and lived.
Years later, she wrote that as her son grew up, he grew into the man she had passed. The one that walked towards her body. The one who was so sad to see her go.
Сайхан Бичээрэй!
H