12-09-2020, 07:55 PM
(This post was last modified: 12-09-2020, 07:55 PM by Borderline.)
despite the overwhelming odds, tomorrow came
As @[lilliana] explains her partiality to the cove, and as I look out over the vast expanse of ocean that stretches as far as the eye can see, I can’t help but feel more at peace. With myself. With the world. With my own little corner of the woods. I can see why this is her favorite spot. I feel like throwing myself into the waves, letting them wash over me as if they could wash away the pain within my heart, the confusion within my mind, and the emptiness within my soul. It’s almost cathartic.
When I look at her, looking wistfully into that great expanse, I can’t help but think that she is beautiful; a mare with so much wisdom to give and such a big heart to give it with. “I wonder how many worries have washed up on distant shores?” I muse. I can’t be the only creature to ever walk the beach and wish to cast my worries into the ocean.
Lilliana takes a step, as if to walk along the beach, so I move forward to join her. And for a moment we talk about motherhood while Memorie plays with the star, now trying to catch it. In the silence that follows, I reminisce on the moments that had made me stronger as a result of being a mother. When the older mare speaks again, the sincerity in her voice is evident. “I guess…I was never afraid of doing things on my own. My family–if you could call it that–was small. It made me think that I had to do things on my own. But after Memorie was born, I realized that I didn’t want that for her.”
The talk of her boys also brings up the loneliness within me, though. I didn’t want Memorie to be alone, but what about myself? Though I had made the choice to stay, to try to make things work, I felt ever more alone each day. Could I make things work with Yanhua? Could he ever make me feel like I wasn’t alone? The questions torment me. They keep me up at night, and I think they keep Memorie up, too. For a moment, she pauses in her play with the star to look over at me, as if she can sense my distress. I give her a slight nod to let her know that I’m okay, and hesitantly she turns her attention back to the star.
“You know what I was terrified of?” I give Lilliana a moment to chew on the question and wonder about the answer. “I was–and still am–terrified of failing her.” When I had left Taiga, it was with selfish intentions. As time went on, I couldn’t help but think of what Memorie was missing out on: the love of a father, the love of a grandmother, a family, a home–all things I was depriving her of.
And how was I failing now? By being miserable, I tell myself.
I cast my eyes back out across the ocean. So… the voice within me echoes, what are you going to do about it? I look back at Memorie, still playing with the star, and a soft, determined smile crosses my lips. “I guess…sometimes… I hesitate for a moment, “you just have to have faith that things will work out.”
When I look at her, looking wistfully into that great expanse, I can’t help but think that she is beautiful; a mare with so much wisdom to give and such a big heart to give it with. “I wonder how many worries have washed up on distant shores?” I muse. I can’t be the only creature to ever walk the beach and wish to cast my worries into the ocean.
Lilliana takes a step, as if to walk along the beach, so I move forward to join her. And for a moment we talk about motherhood while Memorie plays with the star, now trying to catch it. In the silence that follows, I reminisce on the moments that had made me stronger as a result of being a mother. When the older mare speaks again, the sincerity in her voice is evident. “I guess…I was never afraid of doing things on my own. My family–if you could call it that–was small. It made me think that I had to do things on my own. But after Memorie was born, I realized that I didn’t want that for her.”
The talk of her boys also brings up the loneliness within me, though. I didn’t want Memorie to be alone, but what about myself? Though I had made the choice to stay, to try to make things work, I felt ever more alone each day. Could I make things work with Yanhua? Could he ever make me feel like I wasn’t alone? The questions torment me. They keep me up at night, and I think they keep Memorie up, too. For a moment, she pauses in her play with the star to look over at me, as if she can sense my distress. I give her a slight nod to let her know that I’m okay, and hesitantly she turns her attention back to the star.
“You know what I was terrified of?” I give Lilliana a moment to chew on the question and wonder about the answer. “I was–and still am–terrified of failing her.” When I had left Taiga, it was with selfish intentions. As time went on, I couldn’t help but think of what Memorie was missing out on: the love of a father, the love of a grandmother, a family, a home–all things I was depriving her of.
And how was I failing now? By being miserable, I tell myself.
I cast my eyes back out across the ocean. So… the voice within me echoes, what are you going to do about it? I look back at Memorie, still playing with the star, and a soft, determined smile crosses my lips. “I guess…sometimes… I hesitate for a moment, “you just have to have faith that things will work out.”
borderline
