She was asleep, and felt something strange at the tips of her feet. She panicked.

What is that? What am I feeling?

Toes. Those are your toes. See? You can wiggle them.

Toes? What are they for? And how do I wiggle them?

Toes are so that you know how much you can stretch yourself high. 


Yes, dear. And to wiggle them, come here, let me touch your feet.

She felt a thin thread-like trail run across her foot. And the feeling it left was subtle but inexplicable. So much, that she cringed her feet, and the new toes she’d been given, cringed with.

That’s a wiggle, he said, and ran his invisible finger yet again across her feet.

Do it gently, dear, and do it often. It’s like a sign of life. The woman protecting you inside her will be waiting to feel it.

My mother?

Yes, dear, your mother, he said, as he continued to count the final few gifts he had left to give her. Before she was finally ready to be born.


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