She’s huddled in a corner. Unable to move. Something swirls inside her, begging to be released. But she cannot release it. If she lets it out, everyone will see the lie that she’s been. The game that she has played. Changing like a chameleon to blend into her surroundings.
It’s getting hard to hold. Pushing at all sides of her. No longer begging. Demanding. And still she holds it in. Even she doesn’t know what it is. What she will be if it escapes. If she’s not a chameleon, what is she?
As she huddles, head to knee, she begins to feel a presence. No, not one, many. She lifts her head to see she is surrounded by women. Patiently waiting. She feels their eyes digging deep inside her, reaching for the swirling. They smile warmly and one steps forward. It is the Midwife.
“You have forgotten. Let us help you remember”.
Remember? Remember what?
“We see you. You have forgotten who you are, but we see. Come out, there is space for you here”
But.
The women wait. Calm. Patient. Loving. Kind. She feels their compassion and acceptance. Their unconditional love.
The Midwife holds out her hand. She takes it.
As she does, she feels the swirling rush through her body and she remembers.
She remembers the passion. She remembers the connection to nature. She remembers the quiet and slow. She remembers the animals. She remembers...
She rises, strong, shaking off the skin of the chameleon. Exposing the skin of a dragon.