The Field of Bluebells.
A breeze rushes throigh the tall trees and lifts my hair, vulnerable to the bitter elements that surround the night, the moon shines bright and proud, overlooking and ever knowing. I lift my tired feet, torn by sharp twigs and thorns that litter the ground. I clutch the cruel container that hold my baby's ashes, cool against my feverish skin. I slowly make my way to the clearing; it's surrounded by the towering trees, and from the hollows of these trees stretching across the field lay thousands of delicate bluebells completing the scene that I once loved. I came here hoping to relieve myself from this torture that spreads through every cell, hoping, wishing, "Why Lord?" I scream, agony rippling through my voice "What did I do to you? What did my baby do? Why?"
A harsh wind thunders across the field causing the bluebells to rip from their beds. In a mix of a self pitty and anger I scream and throw myself into the wind. " I reject you Lord! I don't care anymore, show me your worst" I cry, my voice becoming muffled as I hold my bare arm across my face in protection. The wind over powers me and my foot becomes entangled in the bluebells.
I fall.
As I fall, the precious urn slips from my fumbling fingers, it spins in the moonlight and arcs in a slow motion before it lands in a mass of bluebells and over turned dirt. I pray that the urn is still intact and that my baby is safe, I thrust myself towards the urn "No!" I scream, a tormented agonised plea; I fall to my knees and sift through the silvery mound. "No, No, No!" I can't breathe; the sobs were painful and wracking. "God, how can you do this to me? How much more do you want to punish me? You took my baby, my sweet, my life, now this!"
I slowly open my eyes and blink. This must be another cruel trick!
The silvery ash is swirling about on the ground and a beautiful light appears in front of my eyes. I gasps at the figure appears in front of my eyes. I gasp at the figure that is forming one, no, two figures. In front of me was my boy, shining, smiling and happy.
Oh my boy!
He starts waving at me and smiling, his face engulfing in happiness. He turns away from me and holds out his hand towards the second figure whom I know to be our lord... "Oh" a sigh escapes from my lips. The light starts to spread across the horizon like a hand that distributes beauty into its surroundings, touching the golden trees, refreshing the bluebells, which were now startlingly perfect and begin to ease my pain.
I fill my lungs with the clean morning air, feeling for the first time at ease with myself and with the world. Looking down, the place where my baby's aches had spilled were now gone, gone with his spirit but both were now in our Lords care.
Sighing I pick a bluebell twirl it between my fingers and begin to walk back to my home as a symbol to represent the miracle and reminding me of my boy.
So now every year that passes, on that very day, I make the trek up through the forest and into the glorious meadow- at peace, with myself and with my Lord.
