Maybe a baby will come tonight, maybe not. The contractions don't seem hard enough or long enough, so we head out for a walk. The mama is bouncing, so excited to meet her little one. She's been doing well and I wonder just how far along in the birthing process her body is. I'm concerned that she might be a very rare one that doesn't feel labour. I ask questions and pray lots because I don't want to deliver a baby. I'm not qualified, not yet anyway. Hopefully someday.
The snow has stopped falling, and it is cold enough that the snow shimmers like it has been sprinkled with glitter. The air is crisp, but not crazy cold like it had been earlier. All is calm and bright, most folks gone to sleep in this small town. We wander through the streets, climbing the hill and looking in the windows. I learn more about this couple, my friends and now clients. We reach the business area of town, where snowbanks line parking lots. I suggest the climbing of one and off they scramble, like children. He climbs first, finding footholds for her, and then up she goes, giggling in delight. It's fun and beautiful, this playful walk under bright stars. Their love shines too, his protection, care and sacrifice for her as he left his boots at home. She trusts him, that he will make good paths and won't let her fall. He doesn't.
We keep walking, back down the hill past their place and then over the river, up an even longer hill to a historical building on the other side. They've seen it while driving past, but didn't know what it was. We find the plaque up against the old stone wall. Behind us a large stone building looms, an old school built in 1850 by an English Quaker. It dates back to before Confederation, to Upper and Lower Canada, when there was a Prime Minister of Ontario. We know this because the fourth Prime Minister of Ontario graduated from this school. We take turns reading the sign and then discuss how Canada has changed. On this cold bright night, the old buildings seem almost magical. We turn to go back.
The baby doesn't come. We waited for awhile and then slept, but still no baby. I could feel frustrated over a wasted evening, but instead I'm remembering those magical moments. I'm learning more, mostly to trust what I know. Second guessing myself comes too easy, but doesn't help when making judgement calls. But I learnt more that night about my friends and my community. I had fun walking and laughing beneath the stars. The baby will come in his/her own time. I will wait and be patient while treasuring the memories of our midnight adventures.
Linking with Emily and the rest