when i went to this place, i went to the tree where my husband and i used to meet for picnics, the tree he asked me to be his wife under, the tree that sits alongside a little park, in a little brick town.
this tree was where my memory filled me. where i don't need pictures to remind me. between the contractions and the deep, steady breaths, i went to this tree. as my husband held my hand and kissed my forehead as i cried through the pain, he talked about this tree and i listened. there was no talking on my part, only listening. only feeling. only going there.
but if i were to do it again, if the nurses told me to to go that place that made me happy ~ i would go here, where you sleep, in the middle of our bed, in your favorite aden & anais swaddle blanket that i dyed, your breath quiet and your eyes moving to the depth that you travel when you hit rem sleep.
i would go where i would kneel on the edge of our bed, staring at you, wondering who you are, getting to know you just by surrounding myself with all of you. i would go where the late afternoon sun scattered like skipping stones on your face as you climbed into your dreams, dreaming of things far more beautiful than i'll ever know.
if ever i do it again, i'll go to this happy place. asleep on our bed, dreaming, breathing deep, colorful and small and wildly beautiful.