05-11-2016, 05:57 PM
Lieschel has a home. If I do nothing else right in my whole life, I will still have done something worthwhile. And I have another sister now, another friend to play with and cuddle with and tell stories. Another someone to hold close when the shadows start to creep back into my chest and try to swallow up the light my family has helped me find. Licking away at the gentle glow that could someday be as bright as the sun if only...
Maybe it will be. Maybe if I surround myself with enough rainbow girls and sunshine souled boys and the love of parents whose radiance is sometimes so bright it blinds eyes too used to the dark, maybe it will—it doesn't matter, though. Not right now. The only thing that matters is Leelee. She's happy, and she's home. Where she belongs. Or at least she will be once we get there. I can see she's nervous, though, and we have a long walk ahead.
So I fill it with stories about her new family, and when I run out of those I launch into some of our favorite made-up stories. The dragon one's always a favorite, especially if Offspring is around to play the dragon. And there are a few about our favorite places, things she'll see when she gets there. The ice wall, the caves, everything I can think of to tell her until my voice is exhausted from so much unaccustomed use.
I'm not much of a talker, not unless someone needs me to be. I've never really had much to say on my own. So it's a bit of a relief for my weary voice and my weary feet when we finally make it back to the Tundra. “I don't know if all homes feel like this, but the good ones do,” I answer her, grinning even as my voice cracks from all the talking. “Yeah, Leelee. This is happy.” And it is. No trace of those shadows, not with my sister's smile lighting up my chest and chasing them away somewhere far out of reach. Please let it last this time.
Please let it last.
Maybe it will be. Maybe if I surround myself with enough rainbow girls and sunshine souled boys and the love of parents whose radiance is sometimes so bright it blinds eyes too used to the dark, maybe it will—it doesn't matter, though. Not right now. The only thing that matters is Leelee. She's happy, and she's home. Where she belongs. Or at least she will be once we get there. I can see she's nervous, though, and we have a long walk ahead.
So I fill it with stories about her new family, and when I run out of those I launch into some of our favorite made-up stories. The dragon one's always a favorite, especially if Offspring is around to play the dragon. And there are a few about our favorite places, things she'll see when she gets there. The ice wall, the caves, everything I can think of to tell her until my voice is exhausted from so much unaccustomed use.
I'm not much of a talker, not unless someone needs me to be. I've never really had much to say on my own. So it's a bit of a relief for my weary voice and my weary feet when we finally make it back to the Tundra. “I don't know if all homes feel like this, but the good ones do,” I answer her, grinning even as my voice cracks from all the talking. “Yeah, Leelee. This is happy.” And it is. No trace of those shadows, not with my sister's smile lighting up my chest and chasing them away somewhere far out of reach. Please let it last this time.
Please let it last.