It was beautiful.  All tightly bound, perfect in every way, I bid a sad farewell to something that took a year of my life to create.  All the hours of formatting, all the sweat and the labor, gloriously sitting in one little priority mail box.  I ran into the bedroom, grabbed my camera, and perched my newborn child in my computer chair in which I sat day in, day out, bringing this baby into the world.  Today, she is born and I needed a picture to remember this day forever.  Everyone around me thought I was nuts, but this was a ritual that needed performing.  

Before I made that last trip to the post office, I cuddled it in my arms as if it were my most prized possession--in reality, IT WAS.  Will you arrive safely?  Will you like your new home?  Will you miss me?  

It took more than a year to conceive and grow and yet, ten minutes for it to leave the nest.  It was a struggle sometimes to keep the momentum, to find the time, to carry it on my shoulder for a year when other projects needed my attention.  I tended to let it sit and stew; but never to abandon.  For it was in a dream that it was conceived and a fantasy for it to be born. 

"Romancing the Soul--True Soul Mate Stories from Around the World and Beyond" is its namesake, but it was truly a gift from the beyond.  

For it was three years ago, an angel visited me with one request--a request that would take tremendous work and time away from my family, but one in which would change my life forever.   

The angel did not take the form of what I had presumed angels to be--it had no wings and was not female.   

It was my soul mate that had passed over a couple weeks before.   

My first reaction was shock.  However, in my dreamlike state, my initial reaction subsided and an aura of peacefulness infiltrated my being. The angel did not speak; yet, I heard every word.   

He wanted me to tell "our" story.  But, not only that, he wanted me to tell the stories of others who had experienced the soul mate bond such as the one he and I shared.  

With unmoving lips, he whispered the words and I understood. Then, he disappeared from whence he came and I was left all alone.  

I rose in the dark, turned on the computer and wrote what was told to me.  Thus, Romancing the Soul was conceived and plans were made to fulfill an angel’s whispers.  

Almost eighty stories later, my child was taking form.  It grew a heart and a soul.  It became whole.  It squirmed and kicked, wanting to enter the world.  I would get emails from writers wanting to know if my child was ready only to tell them: when it is ready, it will let me know.  

The labor pains were unbearable.  I ran out of the vital fluid that ran through its veins: ink.  A race to the store was imminent.  Some parts of it hadn’t arrived yet and still some of its parts were not fully developed.  

On the eve of the New Year, it was ready.  I fed each paper through the printer, watching my child form before my very eyes.  It was a beautiful sight.  One by one, the printed pages would fall into my lap and I would carefully place them one on top of each other until she was complete.  

I wound three rubber bands around its fragile body to keep it snug and placed her in her first cradle, the priority mail box I had gotten days before.  I sealed the box and looked fondly at my precious gift from the angel who had come to me more than a year ago.  Tears of happiness fell from my cheeks as I placed my bundle in the car to take her to her next destination that would take her to unknown lands.   

I walked into the post office, not wanting to let my baby go. But, knowing it was for the best, I placed her on the counter and watched her being weighed.  

“Do you want insurance?” the postmistress asked.  

Can you put money on a newborn?  “Yes,” I said, as I watched the postmistress gingerly place the sticker on my package.  

“That’s my book,” I timidly told her.  

“You’re a writer?” she asked me.  

“Yes … I’m a writer.”  

She smiled.  

I left the post office with a spring in my step as I knew my baby would take that inevitable trip to an agent that I knew would take very good care of her.  

I got in my car and a song came on the radio.  It was “To Where You Are” by Josh Groban.  The words go:  

Fly me up
To where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for awhile
To know you're there
A breath away is not far
To where you are  

I know you're there
A breath away is not far
To where you are  

The angel whispered one more time as I made that trip back home with a song in my heart and happiness in my veins.  He said, “You did well, young lady,” and disappeared once again.  

I feel I have now fulfilled my destiny as well as my angel’s dream.  

Author's Biography

Dorothy Thompson is a freelance writer, author, editor and journalist from the Eastern Shore of Virginia.  

Her articles have appeared in The Eastern Shore News, Daily Times and USA Today, as well as her writing website, The Writer's Life, www.thewriterslife.net, one of Writer's Digest Magazine's Top 101 Websites.  

She is also the founder and compiler of the Romancing the Soul series of anthologies published by Zumaya Publications.  She enjoys hiking, traveling and exploring the metaphysical.  

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