“Be gentle with yourself,” She said.
“You don’t have to do it all now,” the Second She said.
“I saved you a cookie!” said the Third.
Tonight the birds called and the frogs sang and I stood on one of the large rocks circling my overgrown fire ring. The air is still sweet here, and I haven’t even begun to meet all the trees.
“This is a big change, don’t underestimate it,” said the Universal She, who’s voice I have spoken in in other times, to other women birthing their lives like goddesses, seemingly out of darkness and nothingness and chaos.
“We’re good at this,” I tell them and I tell myself. “We get better every time.”
(“Go to sleep,” She answers, book in hand, peering over her glasses. Then She watches from the doorway until I give in to this better nature, and do.)