You are My SunshineYou are My SunshineYou are My Sunshine

Symbolic lights, Well of Darkness, Marathon to

Rescue Our Baby Daughter!

Driving my Audi on a journey through a deserted town street while peaceful Sunday night waking lights, sweep shadowy veils across a virtual glass bubble. At every glance in the rear view mirror, in line of sight meeting our toddler eyes she customary responds with smiling eyes, I conceded to her silent wonder world. Such as Martine alongside curiosity of the leading vista through a horseshoe course. Our existence influenced by the purr of a contented engine, in a furry interior atmosphere, emerging a sensational city planners' deviation tour by commercial insignias.

You are My SunshineYou are My SunshineYou are My SunshineSizing up the swift passage of the small town of Leopoldburg, by the last right butted townhouses ending earlier clearing fields disappearing in the darkness. On the left running tapering off a white haze on toward a distant set of red glowing traffic lights. In a soft white aura hollowing out a background escarpment shadowing woods wrapping up the fields. Approaching the bright lights toggling down to green.

Moving through the intersection, and Instinctive connected our earlier swift entry into town. The reflective pointers guiding us right and away from the “No Entry” sign. A sudden immaterial boulder fell over our heads. the glazing disappearing and poured the black night into the interior wiping our eighteen month daughter slumbered into a nonexistent silence. Without visual presence, relayed by headlight beams brushing the tarmac of the outward main artery. We short lived that last leg of our journey, confronting outskirts forking roads. In the confusion, tempted right for in the distant ray, which renewed the phasing white hazy lit street through rows of evanescent townhouses. When at best Martine guessed, since we left Paul and Marie-Helene earlier in the evening along village connecting roads, we opted for the left conjuncture.

At the time, symbolic and not trackable, the leader of destiny which amazed me, powerful and bright headlights breaking afar the night. When Steffy's voice break the silence such an echo rising from the depth of a well, in a pleading tone of voice as the darkness scared asking, “[Dutch] When will we be home – I want to go to mommy?”

Ho no, don't start again, the thought escaped Martine, in anticipating a repetitious little girl's anxious questions. After a hesitation, Martine glanced over her shoulder and the instant sightless retrieve from between headrests saying, “[Dutch] Steffy – Just now – We will be by your mother in a little while!”

Approaching on our right, a standalone structured luminosity emanating a violation of the shadowy and flocculent surrounded wooded area. When the headlights wayside spills off brushing a reflective silvery mesh along the fenced in property to a gateway. There, an evanescent way through a second hand vehicle parking lot. The mind completed the invisible way around the looming back corner to a series of closed workshop gates recessed in the two-story rear brick wall. Which facade advanced the a fluorescent voluminous showroom to a stretch and in height storefront outline, to the limelight and preserving six variants of spanking new Opel models. Soft and efflorescent waterfall of lights spillage from the cubic lines, misty and pooling up a ground apron, prowling a white dying haze in a last outreaching breath of light low and exhaustive to lie sprawled across our way.

As the car moved through by a feeble shadowing veil streamlining across the windshield. Filtering through the glass bubble interior brushing across laps our

You are My SunshineYou are My SunshineYou are My Sunshineseated silhouetting figures. A reticent little alerting voice, Steffy' said, “{Dutch} There is something wrong with Loulou1.”

The projecting and driving white searchlight beam amused me by a spectacular pushing back in retrieving a deep distant bluff of a wall in conjuncture with the blind piercing of our way into a flawless night. When Martine showed a complacent penchant for the yapping little girl. She relents to her conscious after a brief hesitation, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder into rear of the car. Prompted uncoiling her figure sinking back into the comfort of her seat, she met an instinctive brief return regard, with a poignant shock scream in mind, prompted from the brief eye fixation. In the same instance surged a spur of anger, saying in the silence of her mind, Loulou stop your game! On second thought, in a toned down voice, she pleaded, “[Dutch] Loulou! What's the matter with you?"

Driving in a virtual array of axes, entering an intersection like stimulated by a focal point on Sibylle to a simultaneous collision of a instance. Martine's safety belt in an elastic stretch wasn't able to retain her figure. Vigilant in an alarmed voice, screams at her child the menace, “[Dutch] Loulou, Loulou," which didn’t spur a response! Martine threw a swift hopeless eyed glance across, and addressed me in an anxious tone of voice saying, “There is something wrong!" Both caught by a time accelerating mode. Martine in a catty aroused body twist jumps to the rear, climbing the backrest to handcuff herself into the headrest supports.

Streaming over the windshield streaky shadows our glass bubble moved out the influential filtering showroom haze of outreaching light, which clear the glaze for a see through view. We shunted the cycle lane, onto a pedestrian walkway, pulling up to a wayside grit coming to a halt by the flinging open passenger door. From a lit interior Martine tiger leap to stand on the road shoulder and disappears into shadowy sprightly swirl and dives back through the clearing rear door over Steffy's lap. with a crispy thought, It's not the moment to play the fool! Her figure stretches out deeper crawling toward the middle, calling out in an anxious tone of voices, “ [Dutch] Loulou! What's the matter?"

The instant I jumped onto the tarmac, keeping low watching through the windows Martine unbuckled her baby girl. Then, dragged herself with her daughter at arms in retrieve from the interior. I witnessed an unfamiliar choreographic style from her habitual slipping into the moment's theatrical limelight. Dishonoring her characteristic Tiger camouflage, which in this very rare instance vanished as a dying glow into a shadow of darkness. We moved abreast toward the distant auroral light which lies its dying haze across the

1 Sibylle's nickname

You are My SunshineYou are My SunshineYou are My Sunshineundulated rooftop between us. She moves along the streaky sleek streamlines edged off the metallic gleam, clearing the flowing down the rear glass window, these girls who knew no limits in their games, and Martine in a conscious surges of distress calls, “Daddy2! Daddy – There is something wrong with her.”

I began like running through a maize field in search of an outlet, wondering, Where to find life – a hospital to rush our baby to? Swept by sight seeking in the distance town lights. Found in the bleeding pitch black No Man's land, instead a glimmery shadow, which I pursued in the axis of our earlier arrival. The shadow crossed the low lying fluorescent glow along an intrinsic skyline. Neared to the prolongation in the axis of our idling Audi, the evanescent road, like a soft flashlight beam which sweeps through obstructions. Emerged a hopes raising blinding glare in my line of sight. The upcoming light attenuated and broaden, splitting in the middle, as I spared a thought for those rare likely reluctant driver in pulling over to our rescue. the first headlights were going to dimming down, to a moment of despair, turning off before reaching the shadowing rectangular structure glowing a fluorescent spill in the leading road. Returning us to a lone stance in the deep night, which equals the second and indifferent driver passing us by.

Martine calls out,[Dutch] Loulou! Answer me... Loulou," clearing the rear trunk wing with the limp little figure. She poses in the dim parking red tail light glow, retort to my closing in presence, “She's not right!” instant propelling escape, toward the genie of the emergent fluorescent glow from the geometric lamp. At her feet, the tale of a dark night absorbing the dying auroral haze. In a dithering instant, her mind pirouettes away. her body swerve in and after her eyes gleaming a last resort anxiety.

In an apparent personality swap, the mother is living in her daughter's genetic pragmatic Virgo moon. the daughter seemed to arouse a mother's Gemini spirit blustering winds.

2 Martine nicknamed me, in the context as intimate“Papa” in an English speaking country.

You are My SunshineYou are My SunshineYou are My SunshineCute, flirtatious, exerting coquetry skills in the symbiotic year in the Chinese calendar. The mother's inherent fanciful Tiger, which Sibylle in stealth evokes in a distant squint, while acute rolling her eyes.

Meeting up with Martine I said, “Pass her!"

Engineered by a reigning Electra Complex, my little girl had shown a staunch independence in the first hours after birth. Jerking a hand pull away, which I touched in admiration of the slender monkey fingers, and left offended. She grew up, refuting walks. I thought up new skills, pointing at short intermediate road sings, thinking, A father ought to tame a daughter's will. She grew witty to new found skills at meal time, and games that were off, she keeps up, teasing me beyond my expectations.

Our daughter's wits lingers in mind, as Martine buildups up frantic eye shifts, churning in mind instant recoils, meeting up erratic interfering thought, initiating a turn, gestures a twist, to catch a desperate arms throw over head, as she danced in mind rocking our baby to wake up. She ghosted round about me, and in the subtle change of angle our little girl waxed a lucent moon face. Martine shot a remark, “She's all red in the face!" She thought out loud in an assured voice, “There is something wrong with Loulou – She's not well – She's all hot!" while her nimble fingers crawled across the breast of the little coat, popping buttons, and in a brief exposure to crisp air, despaired that neither brought Sibylle out of her hypnotic state.

Martine's eyes in relieve from an distinct held gesture hurling her daughter across, at the thought, Daddy will take care of her – Everything is going to change – Loulou you'll be all right – It's his responsibility. Her arms refrains from enacting her mind. In a moment of calm said, “Take over, I don't know what to do” and handed her over to me her mind anchored on her daughter. Dithering, retracting in remote hesitation, aware it's too late for a change of mind.

With our daughter in my arms, I hustled, pestering at breaking up her game. In a dance warm up, bustling her comfort, and calling out, “Sunshine, Sunshine ...” Abandoning elaborate body rolls forward, swaying around, only to notice Sibylle persevered with her ceased up expression. By a kidneys push, swinging back up watching her reclined in my arms, her eyes fixation into the tenebrous night, I straightening up to Martine's extended arms at taking the relay. In the instant exchange searched Sibylle's thoughts appearing to repeat, earlier and all along, I'll ignore you for as long I wish! To a chill washing through my body, seeing her eyeballs rolling loose in their sockets. At loss in the instant in doubt, spurts out of mind the trick beyond a toddler's faculty and wiped from imagining her sudden wide mocking smile, saying, I fooled you both!

You are My SunshineYou are My SunshineYou are My SunshineStanding by like a fool, an army of neurons dispatched in emergency like a disrupted ants nest break up. Nimbly claws and jaws quiver in a wild scattering brain labyrinth outbound.

Martine carrying our daughter dithers in rebounding swirls, suddenly came to a stance, still and quiet squints down at her daughter. bending her head over approaches her face. In a breath of panic says; “:She's frothing.” I glanced at the baby soft slumbering lips, seeing strange frothing bubbles, while familiar to foam. Martine's eyes blasted by a heart thump, enacted a child hearing rumble of a father's last words, her ear on his chest. In Martine's voice, the thunderbolt that struck the seven year old child when his heart stopped beating.

Help, help, help, I call in mind, raising my eyes off our daughter with a sweep of sight off to the right. Instinctive orientated toward life hiding in the direction of our earlier arrival. I said, “There are lights!" My eyes intrusive fixation at the few lucent windows peeking for the shadow of a moving figure. I turned away from the shadowy geometric height and width squaring a brick facade with a return of the front corner. Detached from the looming foreground symbolic fluorescent falling haze into the roadway, to follow Martine's evasive eyesight.

I neglected understanding, Martine's instant gesture turning away from me, saying in mind, This is different. Gesturing a bounced off side from my obstructive figure, which didn't permit posing the question, What does it medically mean? Reading her devouring shifting eyes, glaring a devastating fatal fear, she cleared her view around me in mind shouted, Help, help, help!

In a brief glance from Martine's apparent mirrored eyes, I spotted over my shoulder in the shadows of a bohemian house a first pair of white paint peeling drops of wooden slatted roller blinds. Farther off from an instilled doubt at finding life home. adjacent soft candle lights shines through twin filtering curtain nets, and in turn shying the occupancy. My thoughts returned to the lonely deserted night, preoccupied, and repeating to myself, Find a doctor – where? Martine tilted her head far down. Close to meeting her daughter's face, steadfast skimming brief brushing in a pendulum motion across the little nose. She poses. Approaches the little nostrils. In a brief caution wait, Martine kicks her head up screaming out, “ She's not breathing – Daddy what were going to do, she's not breathing!”

Distant, along the deserted road, the yellow and black translucent Opel sign enveloped in a haze of lights the dealership apparent pointer, which leveled up a first floor pair of small lucent windows. The shadowy facing facade left an impression of staff in a hurry, omitting to switch off the lights before the weekend. In a splitting thought,and equally apparent owner's apartment, I glance over toward Martine questioning, Isn't it too far? The instant Martine's frightened eyes catty after prey hussled around my body, calling out, “There is

You are My SunshineYou are My SunshineYou are My Sunshinea house!” As she paused from a gazelle leap across the road, in a flabbergasting swap, I was Led on by the speed factor in covering distances, and saId, “Let's go and ask there?”

I trotted across, toward the whitewash brick facade looming in the wake of the far distant showroom fluorescent spill. Emblematic, serene and simple as guard houses to an evanescent background of embedded reflective rails in the shadows of a spreading railway yard. Spurs as my hope dissipated from finding alternative emergency relief -- Yet, across the yard lies in hiding a connecting country road through the woods to the local shopping street. Ignorant and like a beacon of light in the night, flashing a regard, I attempted at catching up time. Reading the few feeble lit windows like a person's eyes, I accelerated home for help. Approaching the shaded door of a standing obstacle to time.

Agitated, I wrapped at the door. Time stood still, while I repeated knocks. Increased at shorter intervals. In a break of continuity, I watched a slit of light up the wooden door widen by the gravity of a hinging weight. Opening to an escaping angelic light raising a silhouetting figure, giving me rights to a lackadaisical look. I rushed asking the seventeen-year old young man, “[Dutch] Our baby daughter needs urgent medical attention -- Where is there a hospital – do you know a doctor?" I fast repeated myself. Nothing in my accelerating words shakes up the teenager. In desperation, I pointed behind me to Martine upcoming with our daughter, and pulled back, turning out of his line of sight, for the young man to witness a genuine urgency.

The teenager leaning against the door rebate, a hand grip at both faces of the door, the handles of propping arms, feeling despair raise unable to shudder the young man from a hypnotic sleep. Increasingly arousing the sense of a bad choice at indicating an itinerary to hospital -- At the thought of driving through a strange town on a lost course at the first turn.

Martine had joined in a stalemate situation, as i grew a sensed of rehearsing my words, when on a calm note, I said, “[Dutch} Can you lead us to a doctor – our daughter needs urgent medical care?”

Nothing I said moved the youngster from the cobwebs of the mind to think, when Martine in a pleading tone asked, “ [Dutch] We need a hospital, or doctor -- It's an emergency."

“No,” said the teenager with a categoric withdrawal gesture.

That won't do, I thought and Insisted, “ [Dutch] Would you not come with us. Show us the way?"

“[Dutch] I can't,” the youngster replied.

“[Dutch] Why can't you be our guide to a doctor?"

You are My SunshineYou are My SunshineYou are My Sunshine“[Dutch] I'm alone at home."

With these words the door closes like a punch on the nose, and with a door in our face, like a relinquished curiosity of light, left in the dark. I turned away from the dark wooden door wiping by sight in disbelief over our daughter and mother. Martine featuring dumbfounded, I said. “My little one3” and leaped by sight over her shoulder and in diagonal across the tarmac toward the evening enticing Opel dealership. Symbolic words in a breeze through my mind, I said, "We have to find someone shows us the way to a Doctor." Aware she'll be short on my heels, I sped around Martine in mind and soul at the source of the fluorescent lights.

3As I nicknamed Martine.