Born through Love

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Sitting with a guide on her right side, Reine doodled, fleshing out a plan for an amazing life. Caution cast aside, she wanted it all. Here the little queen played freely. Unencumbered, she created, exploring the multitude of possibilities before her, imagination and ingenuity playmates in the Garden of Eden. Supported by a sense of oneness, she knew that, no matter what transpired, she would be safe. Her essence pondered a being of light, anxiously waiting for incarnation into the place of endless limitations. Would she forget this liberation by experiencing injustice and heartache, and succumbing to unregulated chaotic emotions? In this ethereal zone, that seemed impossible. Insistently, her inner voice summoned her, as she reluctantly focussed and began to finalise the details of her next life.

Like the coming of autumn, sadness fleetingly touched her being. Joy and expectation mingled easily with regret. Soon she would forget this elevated state. Reine allowed it to pass through her, dissipating into the void. Slowing her vibration, thickness permeated her cells. Her essence spiralled purposefully downward. Joining the planetary body of earth, she scanned prospective couples, those wishing to have a child. To her surprise, despite the war in Europe, she found an ample array of prospective parents. Working purely instinctively, her intuition led her to the couple who would provide by their love the route for her incarnation and, by the hand of fate, a fertile ground for growth. From the highest vantage point, she selected to live a life full of experiences, colour, and regret.

Subconsciously she knew her parents already, but as her memories gradually slipped away, she took more time to be near them. Firstly, she concentrated her effort on finding a father, the ideal male aspect—by nature withdrawn, apparently aloof; he remained vigilant, always waiting for something to happen. Watching him, she noticed that he prided himself in being prepared, always in control, a good and dependable man. Everybody liked him, although no one actually understood that they really did not know him at all. Blending well, he barely created a ripple on the pond of life, and yet a certain tension shadowed him like a heavy winter coat, restricting his movement.

Physically he appealed to Reine. Though not conventionally handsome, his conservative clothing and medium height and build created a well-assembled aura. Looking out from the photograph on the hearth, deep-set, mystical eyes regarded the world intently. Unfathomably complex, they reflected a fiercely protective nature, a quality that would ultimately win her mother's heart. Similarly, Paps would gain her complete trust, break her heart, and wound her so deeply that the precious gift of love would unthinkably transmute into a seething hatred. This man, a vassal, offered a multitude of opportunities, chances for her to feel the both agony and ecstasy, diametrically opposed extremes. Hatred and love, so close yet so irreconcilable, two faces of the same coin.

Seeing him on a Sunday, one could easily mistake him for a man of substance, a banker or a businessman perhaps. Like so many sitting nearby, he worked in one of the lowliest positions—that of a miner. Inside Mother Earth all year round at a steady twelve degrees, he picked away at the coal seams to provide fuel for homes and industry. Dust covered him, making him one with his surroundings, a black chameleon. His eyes observed it all, and his soul absorbed it all, especially the unspoken fear of asphyxiation. But in his suit, he fooled the world of judgement, easily mistaken as a man of means.

Reine watched her mother sitting in the church pew, sunbeams streaming through the stained glass encircling her head. Dust fairies danced innocently overhead, carried whimsically on the breath of hymns, floating upward toward heaven. Mami looked elated as the music carried her spirit to a place untouched by earthly concerns. Reine knew her destiny was about to be played out, observing the magic of the moment when her parents met for the first time. Paps looked up. On seeing Reine's mother, his normal control slipped from his grasp. Mami's outer beauty first caught his attention, but her inner beauty captured his heart. Small in stature, she frequently found people initially mistook her for a child. One look into her eyes revealed the presence of understated power and formidable determination.

Glancing sideways, she smiled at him. The ease of her smile seemed to illuminate the whole church. Caught unawares, he wondered if she could read the thoughts rattling noisily around inside his head. The smile touched him as if she had gently kissed his cheek, leaving him slightly dizzy and off-kilter. It triggered a vision in his mind, exploring incredible possibilities for their future that were his alone, as she remained quite oblivious to his presence. A childlike nymph, she sang, unaware. Reine watched her Paps form his intent, fostering the dream that he would meet Mami, win her heart, and that they would grow old together, still deeply in love. Far away, the minister's voice droned on. Uncertain how to meet her, he prayed for God's help, and on the way out she stood there next him, smiling knowingly.

From that first meeting, love blossomed, and soon they felt only the incredible urge to be together, building a life of joy and promise. Paps felt inadequate at times, knowing that he could only offer her a modest life. Mami just smiled at him, not saying a word, and he knew that she believed in him, had faith in his commitment to her, and loved him from the depth of her being. Now two years into World War I, the effect of the conflict made its presence known. Food became scarce, war came close to them, and Saarland suffered repeated attacks whilst the need for coal increased. Paps watched as his wife's purity, optimism, and laughter leached out of her, glancing at him anxiously each morning as he left for the mine. Looking at her, he knew she reflected his own sense of hopelessness, anger, and mourning at the freedom of youth hemmed in by the restrictions of war. Like the rubble on the ground, their dreams appeared to be thwarted by conflict.

With her by his side, he still dreamed grandiose dreams. Not only on Sundays would he wear a suit, but every day. Maybe he might own two or three, and Mami would be dressed by a French seamstress. The cold, darkness, and exhaustion of the mine would be behind him, appreciated but discarded. He could be that man of means, but the war came snatching that opportunity from his grasp. War was close, the screams from the battlefield merging with the screams of frustration in his head. Working longer hours, feeling the earth shake as bombs landed dangerously close by, he found it hard to...