future (part three)

To pick up from where I left the story hanging...

I waited at the appropriate boarding gate, as instructed, until everybody had boarded the flight, to see whether there'd be a seat for me or not. Well, there was -- one precious seat, especially for me (or so I like to think). So I was whisked away, and after a fuss-free flight, arrived in Portland just after 5pm. I went straight to the rental car booth to see what was potting, but all the 'cheap' cars were already out, and what remained was way out of budget. So... I decided on a taxi ride, or rather, a cab ride. The unassuming driver, Abdi, was half Kenyan, half Somalian, incredibly friendly and impeccably educated (he told me he liked to read commentaries on US foreign policy, one of which he pointed to on his passenger seat -- Good Muslim, Bad Muslim: America, The Cold War and The Roots of Terror). Blimey.

One hour, a gas-station stop, a scintillating conversation, about 50 photographs I hurriedly snapped of towns we whizzed by, and $92 (!!) later, I was in Bridgton and looking up at the red brick façade of Birthwise Midwifery School, in the humid summer evening air.

Immediately, student midwives scurried around me, hugging me hello, making herbal tea, asking me questions, and sharing their dinner (of miso soup, avocado maki rolls, crab salad, and Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice-cream -- hardly the New England Clam Chowder I'd been expecting, but who in their right mind would complain?!). It was glorious.

But I was tired. Tired isn't the word. At 9pm, after attempting to stay awake long enough to watch a DVD with the lovely women and barely managing to keep my eyes open for the title menu, I retired to my temporary room in the Birth House (attached to the school building but nonetheless a free-standing, midwife-owned birthing centre for the public). I'd forgotten to ask for a blanket and was frankly too tired to go upstairs again and get hold of one, so I pulled my houndstooth winter coat out of my suitcase in the dark, climbed onto the futon, covered myself with the coat, clutched my beloved Scottie-dog toy, Julian, to my chest and shut my weary eyes.

As I fell asleep, I thought, this is the place that will make me a midwife.