Chapter 2 - Naming It

High up in the clouds I wandered. Among the puffy islands floating in the pale blue sky, even the most restive soul can feel at peace, so I sought them out. The immense masses of vapor, their tops now tinged in the orange light of the setting sun, rolled along in majesty and impermanence. Riding the wind, again in bird form, I was taking a short break from following my family on its journey south, to a new start. Anxious to get back to them, after a short time I drifted back down through the white mist, descending slowly.

Spiraling toward earth, I looked down as abstract patterns gradually transformed themselves into more recognizable details. The patchwork quilt of greens and browns became populated with houses, sheds, barns and other manmade structures. The black roads that bisected them came to life with small dots of color that coursed over them. The lifeblood of human activity that fed the world below became more distinct, until I could spot again the dusty blue sedan that I pursued.

In the time since my death, I was never far from my family, always keeping a silent watch. A new life in Maryland beckoned them and me. The new job offer for my dad came at the right time. It was a chance for them to leave the unhappy memories behind, whether they admitted as much or not.

They couldn't be rid of me by moving, however. My attachment to them was still too strong. I wasn't quite sure of my place in their world; it would take time before I would discover that, but in some way I sensed I did belong with them.

Having lived only a few minutes, I could not measure the passage of time as the living might. The chaos of my birth, the crisis of breath, the blurred visions of human faces, the swarm of activity before the sudden realization of death, seemed to last a lifetime -- and truth be told, it was mine. Now truly a part of eternity, each moment, even the seemingly mundane in which time passed quietly, contained its own epiphany. I could see and appreciate each as a separate thread to be woven into the fabric of a lifetime.

There was another major change in our lives, besides the move. Soon, too soon it seemed, my mother was pregnant again, and the pain of my loss had subsided. As the days passed, I could sense each millimeter that her belly grew, filling with my apparent replacement. The yet-to-be named brother became more human as time moved forward without me. I watched, and on some level remembered my own time in that womb; more sensations than actual memories.

In my refuge of liquid warmth, floating freely in the fluid that bathed me, the all-encompassing darkness was reassuring rather than frightening; engendering a feeling of protection from a hostile world. Sounds, muffled nuisances, filtered through to me from outside occasionally, but it was the accompanying thump of my mother's heart that was a constant bass line, setting the rhythm of my life. Whenever my heartbeat fell into line with hers, I experienced the bliss of perfect belonging and connection.

Relishing these happier sensations, I also became aware of a new and disturbing one: the gnawing ache of envy. As the birth of my brother approached, I felt more and more cheated. Thoughts of what he would have, what should have been mine, began to consume me. Images of what my life could have been washed over me, and colored my view of impending events, as if the two existed in parallel universes, vying with each other, struggling to become reality.

As I neared the car, I noticed a fly buzzing around the back seat of the Ford, annoying Timmy as he tried to mark off his list of out-of-state plates spotted on passing cars. Using the fly, I hid in the corner of the back window, blending in with the black trim, to observe my family up-close, quietly; fooling myself that I was still in some way a part of their lives.

"What kind of car is that daddy?"

"Which one?"

"That one with Ohio plates. The red one."

"That's a Mustang."

"What's a mustang?"

"It's a type of horse. Now try to keep quiet, so you don't disturb your mother."

"I'm ok honey, don't worry. Timmy's not bothering me."

"Have you thought of names yet?"

"I have, but I wanted to check it with you first. I know we already used Michael, but I really like the name, and I want to try again. Does that seem too strange?"

"Maybe, but that's okay."

As they spoke the words, the reality of who and what my brother was and would be, became more evident. The longing for the things he would experience became more acute. The vague hostility that I was feeling toward him became more real.

I was first; he came second. He was stealing from me the things to which I should have been entitled.