Birth — Supernatural Thailand 12

The woman feels like her life has been one long stretch of rain, the steady kind that makes you want to keep your head down, warily avoiding the deep puddles as you walk towards your destination, hoping that the patched pieces of cloth you use above for shelter keeps you dry.

And then one day the rain stops, you find that you are middle aged, and your daughter has left you to go do grown children things like making her life, living her dreams.

The woman feels cheated, for as she had steadily kept her eyes on the future, the present slipped away into that mysterious repository from which only echoes manage to escape.

But she wants some of it back, the most beautiful and precious sliver of it, and sighs loudly waiting expectantly while the doll-maker does the finishing touches on a piece that will look just like her daughter did as a baby.

The doll-maker smiles as he hears her nervous exhale, each deft stroke of his paintbrush making the doll look more alive. He feels privileged to be a part of this, and respects the emotion and love that his client is going through during this birthing process.

After a last inspection, he hands the new doll to her which she cradles reverentially, eyes tearing, whispering words of love. She reaches into her purse and takes out a brand new set of baby clothes, dresses the doll, brushes her hair.

She then carefully puts her ‘child angel’ into a stroller, rolls it out of the doll maker’s workshop and crosses the loud, busy intersection of the city entering the cool shade of a temple.

She is late for her appointment with the monk who is to perform the ceremony to invite a wandering spirit into the doll, giving it a soul.