Whoops this one got past me!
Written in response to inspiration provided by Elisa (call for inspiration 2):
The bundle shivers.
The puzzle was nearly complete. She had loved me like a song, her fingers dancing over the borders of the countries of the world like a cosmic guitarist. In Bucharest she had found, lying in a nameless alley, my ethanol breath freezing in the icy night. I had been young then, and almost dead. Helpless.
She released me five years later, in Sydney, where I was born, as though she was saying what your mother did, I have done again. Those five years were like a carefully strummed sheet of music, a lone guitarist sitting on a bench.
She gave me my health back at the bottom of the Himalaya, the life returning to me like streaming marijuana clouds. The piercing cold waging war with the fool Sun, neither giving ground, both gods, warring for my soul.
My mind was a trickier beast and she dragged me across the globe to heal it. The folds of my brain street marked, coordinate plotted, traced by GPS. She knew what she was looking for, and I cared little, until she found it. It was in New York where she returned me to myself, that castle both Eastern and Western, both European and Asian, the two faced Janus.
The daylight of history: the curved stone, the wood balustrades, worn by generations of hands. Antique footprints imprinted in concrete footpaths.
Then the neon nighttime that heralded the bringing of futureshock: flickering stabs of light, hard edges, police in balaclavas. Slivers of doors leading to darkened bars.
Somewhere in between the two I found my present.
She picked me up then, one last time. Whole and complete she birthed me into the world, back in Sydney and I walk this street now, the warm air coddling me.
The bundle before me shivers again. I crouch down and raise its head. Put a flask of water to its mouth.