by Marsha Ault
“Josh, I need to rest. I can hardly breathe.” Our tour guide’s slanted eyes looked at me with concern. He was a short, gentle man, a Carib Indian, whose ancestors were the original inhabitants of Dominica. Josh and Kashmiri helped me upon a large igneous rock.
I did not want to appear as a wimp even though my bulging tummy felt very heavy. Josh had tried to talk me out of the eight mile hike up the mountainside to see the famous “Boiling Lake”, but I was determined. We had been climbing upward for almost two hours. The path was barely visible at times because of landslides. Josh gave me some water from his bottle. I gulped it downward as it refreshed my parched throat.
Kashmiri reassured us that we had only about another 30 minutes before we reached our destination.
Josh patted my abdomen. He smiled when he felt a swift kick from his little son. I felt rejuvenated as we made our final ascend.
“Amber, look! It’s beautiful!” Josh exclaimed as he pulled me on top of the peak. I could not believe my eyes . . . clouds of vapor over bubbling water spewing out of the earth. Suddenly I felt another gush between my legs of very warm water . . . fear wrapped its arms about me as I realized our little one was coming early.
Kashmiri was the father of eight. An hour later I held our first born swaddled in Josh’s shirt.
6 comments:
What a situation! I love Kashmiri coming to the rescue with his expertise! (But imagine the walk back down. Yikes!)
I love this story. Something about the baby being wrapped in the husband's shirt, or the gush of water at just the "right" time...it really works well! Great job!
Now this is one, big, pregnant pause! Well done.
Fun (and funny) piece!
Such characterization for such a short story. I'm keenly impressed.
And also freaked out by the thought of delivering in public - not so much for the baby's sake or my own modesty, but that I couldn't go to sleep immediately after.....
Thank you for all of your comments. I love being challenged to write.
Post a Comment