12-12-2020, 01:53 AM
despite the overwhelming odds, tomorrow came
It warms my heart to see Memorie and the star playing so happily together on the beach. The way he flickers and shines and @[lilliana]’s reactions makes me wonder if they are communicating. If they are, their conversation is as private as my own thoughts, which are still a tangled mess of emotions. I had found some peace here on the beach, but it was a temporary respite, for I still have a lot to sort out before I could truly feel at peace.
For now, however, I allow the comfort to settle in for a bit, and I watch Memorie and the star. She bounds away for a few strides, then plants one hoof in the sand, throwing her weight into it so that she pushes off in the opposite direction, begging the star to chase her. I laugh softly at Lilliana’s statement. “Well, she is smitten with him. We’ve certainly never seen anything like him. I’m not surprised, though. Memorie loves to chase butterflies. They never play back, though.”
Memorie had always reminded me so much of her dad. Don’t get me wrong, she has parts of me, too: the blue tail, my elegant shape. But she has so much of him in her: his color, his horns, his hooves, his mane, his eyes. Sometimes it had made me sad, but my love for her runs so deep that I cannot fault her for it one bit. And yet, it was always an aching reminder that she deserved to have her father in her life. She deserved to know the other half of herself. And despite the pain that spans the miles that had grown between myself and Yanhua, he deserved the chance to be a father. And so I had returned.
This little rendezvous on the beach, however, gave me all the reason to stay. I feel blessed to have shared this experience with her and her grandmother.
Just then, a part of me starts to wonder if Memorie had known that this beach was not alone, that it shared its hidden secrets with a friendly face who might bring some semblance of peace to my soul. She stops to look back at me right then, and I almost think I see her wink at me, but it could be a trick of the shadows, because then she bounds off in another direction, completely forgetting that I exist once more. I give a soft laugh at this.
When Lilliana offers her help, I give her a grateful smile. I didn’t really need help. I had proven that to myself long ago. But the offer, well, it’s hard to explain, but if I could put it into one word, that word would be “safety.”
“There’s every need to thank you, though.” I look at her with a warm smile. “It might just be two words, but those two words come from the bottom of my heart, because you have helped me in so many ways tonight.” In truth, I didn’t think thank you actually could convey just how grateful I am to the older mare. She had helped shed some light on the dark corners of my mind that I had trapped myself in.
Just then, Memorie comes racing between us with a squeal of delight. I move aside for her just in time as sand sprays up around my hooves from her running. She makes a quick pivot behind Lilliana and stops, using her grandma to hide behind. She sticks her face around Lilliana’s chestnut hindquarters and closes one eye while sticking out her tongue at the star. “I fear you have officially become part of the game.” I wink at her.
For now, however, I allow the comfort to settle in for a bit, and I watch Memorie and the star. She bounds away for a few strides, then plants one hoof in the sand, throwing her weight into it so that she pushes off in the opposite direction, begging the star to chase her. I laugh softly at Lilliana’s statement. “Well, she is smitten with him. We’ve certainly never seen anything like him. I’m not surprised, though. Memorie loves to chase butterflies. They never play back, though.”
Memorie had always reminded me so much of her dad. Don’t get me wrong, she has parts of me, too: the blue tail, my elegant shape. But she has so much of him in her: his color, his horns, his hooves, his mane, his eyes. Sometimes it had made me sad, but my love for her runs so deep that I cannot fault her for it one bit. And yet, it was always an aching reminder that she deserved to have her father in her life. She deserved to know the other half of herself. And despite the pain that spans the miles that had grown between myself and Yanhua, he deserved the chance to be a father. And so I had returned.
This little rendezvous on the beach, however, gave me all the reason to stay. I feel blessed to have shared this experience with her and her grandmother.
Just then, a part of me starts to wonder if Memorie had known that this beach was not alone, that it shared its hidden secrets with a friendly face who might bring some semblance of peace to my soul. She stops to look back at me right then, and I almost think I see her wink at me, but it could be a trick of the shadows, because then she bounds off in another direction, completely forgetting that I exist once more. I give a soft laugh at this.
When Lilliana offers her help, I give her a grateful smile. I didn’t really need help. I had proven that to myself long ago. But the offer, well, it’s hard to explain, but if I could put it into one word, that word would be “safety.”
“There’s every need to thank you, though.” I look at her with a warm smile. “It might just be two words, but those two words come from the bottom of my heart, because you have helped me in so many ways tonight.” In truth, I didn’t think thank you actually could convey just how grateful I am to the older mare. She had helped shed some light on the dark corners of my mind that I had trapped myself in.
Just then, Memorie comes racing between us with a squeal of delight. I move aside for her just in time as sand sprays up around my hooves from her running. She makes a quick pivot behind Lilliana and stops, using her grandma to hide behind. She sticks her face around Lilliana’s chestnut hindquarters and closes one eye while sticking out her tongue at the star. “I fear you have officially become part of the game.” I wink at her.
borderline
