Six Smiles

There is brightness, and movement. Her eyes are closed but there is a shimmer and shadow - slowly, slowly they open and she blinks the film away and the world is full of gold and green; colours she does not know and cannot name, but they are warm and soft; she smiles her first smile and blinks again.

She shivers, she is wet and new and the world is cold, her mouth opens and she mewls for help; there is golden warmth, something is tugging, rasping through her coat and her face is nestled in soft safety, smooth fur, a scent that speaks so strongly of the dark place before and she sighs and breathes deeply and smiles her second safe smile of reassurance and relief. She is safe, she is happy - she is home, she feels home for the first time, knows safety, knows happiness, her heart shudders and her eyes flutter closed and she smiles the third time, deep and content.

Soon, too soon, the warmth recedes, there are noises and shifts, the gold rises into the above and she wails - her home has gone, her warmth has gone; but then it is back, a face - she does not know it is a face, but a face, gazing at her with soft brown eyes and nudging, nuzzling, shoving with love at her shoulder and then her rump, and she whimpers, and the golden warmth makes noises that taste and smell of home and hope.

Slow, shaking, fearful but fearless, she moves. Long legs like blades of straw, fragile, shivering with newness, she rises; at once she falls, she wails, the warmth returns but pushes her on and she rises again, straw becomes a stem of grass, she falls, the stem bending, but does not cry, she sees fierceness in the gold now, fierceness and pride and she feeds on it and pushes herself before the gold can push her and once more she falls but the blades of grass are saplings now, she is on her knees but not down and she rises and she calls and she smiles her fourth smile, fierce and proud, and her eyes turn to the golden figure, to the warmth and she sees a smile the sounds are a voice, and they taste of joy.

But again, again the gold is moving, the warmth is receding, but she knows it is not leaving, it is leading, she knows that now and the saplings have become legs and she can step, faltering and feeble but she can step and her face blossoms to her fifth smile, shaking and unsure but becoming surer, and the voice is calling, murmuring love and pride and joy and hope, and the voice has a word

“Jetta”

and she hears as she stumbles forwards, she hears and she knows and she knows the golden figure is home as she steps more surely, and she hears the words

“Jetta”

and knows the words and knows now, she knows now..

“Jetta”

She knows her name.

She smiles her sixth smile and she knows.