How funny it is that one place, one house, can waver between ‘home’ and ‘wasteland’.
When you were here, the lonely ocean suddenly blazed with dawn light… and I felt the peacefulness of home. Your heartsongs made me brave. Walking the woodland paths at night no longer terrified me—my mama by my side, my brother up ahead. How could I be scared when you were with me?
The shifting shadows and night-creature sounds no longer struck fear into my soul. If truth were to be told, I barely noticed them.
The fuzzy blue light glows from the small devices in your hands chased the shadows away. My mama’s voice, clear and soft and beautiful—the voice of an angel in a dream too wonderful for words—ringing through the cool night air, echoing above the night noises and the rustling of the leaves.
The leaves. As the singing fills the night, the leaves spiral down and around, whispering their way through a dance only they know the steps to. Fluttering and flickering, caught in the breeze; caught in a dance that ends when they land at our feet with a final hushed murmur, bowing to us—young princesses and a prince, standing in a forest glade; feeling so very close to Aslan.
The cold begins to become too much, but we stay in the glade, talking quietly. It seems we’re the only ones in the entire forest. I stand on the edge of a hill, murmuring fantasy tunes to myself.
The realization strikes me—I’m here, in the forest at night, with some of the people I love most in this world. A mama and a brother whom I have never seen and may never see again after this night.
The sudden need to return to the glade, where I can see you, hits me. I leave the woodland and go back.
Later, we sit in a square room that is colder than the rest of the house. This room holds so many memories, some of them painful—but I have never felt safer or happier than I do now, here with you.
I haven’t laughed or grinned this much in what seems like ages upon ages. This happiness I feel… so strange… something I haven’t felt in so long.
As usual for me, I try to move and instead nearly fall off of the swaying mattress. I find myself in Mama’s arms and relax. I had forgotten how peaceful and infinitely loved being held makes me feel. I want to stay in her arms forever and ever.
I know I can’t. There is a curfew for me, even tonight. I soon have to leave and return to my own little wolf den at the other side of the house. I stand, say quietly ‘goodnight’ and ‘I love you’.
Mama tells me she knows. I turn to leave; my feet are just as clumsy as always, and I stumble. Cheeks warming, I glance back sheepishly, and see a warm and smiling face looking at me. I smile back, and then bumble my way down dark steps, through a dimly-lit series of rooms, and up more dark steps to my wolf den.
I leave my clothes on rather than change into pyjamas. I smell traces of my mama’s perfume, and it keeps me calm; makes me feel as though I’m still in her arms, instead of alone in my room—as I so often am.
I type away in my journal before being whirled away by the Sandman to the Land of Dreams. I awake early, remember just who is asleep on the other side of the house, and become excited all over again. I force myself to return to the Land of Dreams—there is no use wandering the house five hours before anyone else has been roused.
My big brother is the first to appear, the rumple-haired prince with his gentle smile. I only just met him for the first time, but feel as close to him as I do with all of my brothers—feel the same heartache-mixture of little-sister pride and love that I feel for all of my brothers.
The princesses soon wake up as well—my mama and her twin sister, both as beautiful as they were the night before. I’m quieter than I was last night, but I watch everything with a smile on my face.
A smile that falters as the realization hits; these special, wonderful people through whom God shines so brightly… will be gone a mere two hours from now.
The smile stays, but with a bittersweet shadow of dread tucked away at the corner of my lips. The thunder of my heart starts to speed up as I resign myself to the fact that this dream of beauty and happiness and I-feel-like-I’m-home is about to end.
And the moment comes too soon, just after I give my mama two gifts which I had planned to give her long ago—a ceramic figurine and a bracelet which I made myself… a bracelet of red and gold and purple. Red for Christ’s blood, gold for hope and light, and purple for the royalty of our King. I chose the colors with care.
Snapshots are taken, frozen glimpses as poor substitutes for the reality that was. Memories caught in the tumbling crimson and stars that is Time.
The end of the peace is oh so near. I can feel it in my bones, in my soul—the ache is returning.
I am unable to bear the thought of staying inside while the three of you leave. The little child inside of me tags along after you, just barely managing not to cling to her mama’s hand.
Mama hugs me. I hug her back fiercely tight, and I wonder—can she sense the way my throat is tightening, the way I struggle to force the words out without choking them? Can she see the tears hiding just behind my eyes, a mere breath away from glittering on my eyelashes?
I turn, and go to hug my big brother. He holds out his arms before I reach him, and I stumble into them. And for a moment, in his arms, I don’t feel so very lost. He hugs me tight, and I hug him back, whispering that it had been nice to meet him—unable to say anything more without sobbing.
I was shaking. I didn’t even realize… but you did. You felt me trembling, and wondered why. Perhaps I should have spoken the truth—that I was struggling to hide the tears, that my heart was already breaking to see them leaving. But I could not have found the words, even if I had tried.
I manage a tremulous smile, letting my gaze fall upon the prince and princesses one last time before turning. Instead of bolting—flying like my crumbling heart desires, fleeing to hide in a lonely corner and sob the pain away—I force myself to walk. The flood of heartache comes rushing in, and once again I feel lost in a sea of uncertainty and nameless emotions without faces.
Every step is an effort; can anyone see it? Movements like a robot. One foot in front of the other; you can do it, you sad little lass, you can. One step, then another, and another—movements slow and methodical, that of a mechanical toy.
The door is reached, and it feels miles away. The tears enter my eyes as I enter the house, and through the window I see the red car drive away… as warm liquid shards of my heart chase one another down my cheeks.
~~
Never say goodbye, because goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting.
I don't want to forget. Never, ever. It hurts so much to remember, but I have to. I have to cling to the silver threads, keep my gaze upon the glowing firedust that drifts from world to world, from time to time.
How can such tiny and frail things such as tears send a person to their knees? Send a person collapsing to the floor, into shuddering sobs that make her insides feel as though they're caving in?
Tiny things, tears. Such little things.
And so powerful.
The stars, fallen tears of angels, creating glittering trails of light in the sky, joining hearts together from oh so far away.
Can you see it?
I can, even though the shadows hide it sometimes. It makes my heart ache with the pain of longing and sorrow and love and so many dreams.
Can you feel it?
I can. Oh, I can. Every single heartbeat.
And you know what else? Sometimes, late at night, when no one is awake but me and my dreamworld companions and the Doctor...
The sweet song of an angel's lullaby echoes to me from across time and space, from a fairy land across the sea, wrapping me in the loving arms of my very own angel.
Can you hear it, my friends?
I can. Oh, how I can.
