Memoirs: Reminiscence
Jan. 30th, 2006 04:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shosenI was starting to fear the Moonglade. Not for threat of physical harm, but just for the fact that these last few visits had ended with simple words echoing through my mind and a hidden garment in my bags. Suring the Festival though, as uncomfortable as that was, I still could not take myself away so easily. Instead, I sat there, on the shores of the lake, letting the purple fabric drift over my hands, and for once gave myself permission to remember.
My mother had love to host parties. She would invite everyone “of standing” that she knew, have the cooks prepare more food than could possible be eaten in a single evening, decorate the house with candles and lanterns, and on the night of the party would wear and beautiful dress. It was never same one twice, but it was always carefully crafted and elegant to the extreme. On the nights of those parties, my mother looked every inch the Lady she had always wanted to be.
As she put on her jewelry, she would promise me all the finery in the world. I would have a large house in which to hold my own parties, servants to do all the work, exquisite and expensive clothing to wear, and, of course, a title to uphold. As she spoke I would sit on the bed, playing with the discarded clothes and jewelry and imagine myself in the world she conjured with her words. As I grew older, I started adding my own romantic spin, placing my storybook One True Love into the picture somewhere, but it was still the future my mother planned for me that I dreamt of. It was that future which I abandoned when I thought it meant denying myself the possibility of that One True Love. The future I continually regretted not even attempting as the years went on.
Sitting in the Moonglade, thinking of my mother, I carefully wrapped the Festive Dress before putting it back in my bag with the others. No good came of thinking about the past, there was nothing in it that could be changed. I’d learned that lesson longer before waking in Deathknell to a startling example of just how true it really was.
I looked out over the lake and watched the fireworks, trying to pull my thoughts to the present. When they finally complied, it was only to center on the soft words Rabine Saturna had spoken earlier. “Don’t listen to the hearts of the world; the answer lies within. You know the truth.” Did I really? Everything around me, about me, seemed to contradict what I knew to be true, everything except the old witch and her taunting presents. If I did know the truth, what did it matter when I no way to change anything?
The sky lit up above my head, and in the midst of the small, but loud, explosions, I chanted over and over again, until the pain and power brought silence to my thoughts.
My mother had love to host parties. She would invite everyone “of standing” that she knew, have the cooks prepare more food than could possible be eaten in a single evening, decorate the house with candles and lanterns, and on the night of the party would wear and beautiful dress. It was never same one twice, but it was always carefully crafted and elegant to the extreme. On the nights of those parties, my mother looked every inch the Lady she had always wanted to be.
As she put on her jewelry, she would promise me all the finery in the world. I would have a large house in which to hold my own parties, servants to do all the work, exquisite and expensive clothing to wear, and, of course, a title to uphold. As she spoke I would sit on the bed, playing with the discarded clothes and jewelry and imagine myself in the world she conjured with her words. As I grew older, I started adding my own romantic spin, placing my storybook One True Love into the picture somewhere, but it was still the future my mother planned for me that I dreamt of. It was that future which I abandoned when I thought it meant denying myself the possibility of that One True Love. The future I continually regretted not even attempting as the years went on.
Sitting in the Moonglade, thinking of my mother, I carefully wrapped the Festive Dress before putting it back in my bag with the others. No good came of thinking about the past, there was nothing in it that could be changed. I’d learned that lesson longer before waking in Deathknell to a startling example of just how true it really was.
I looked out over the lake and watched the fireworks, trying to pull my thoughts to the present. When they finally complied, it was only to center on the soft words Rabine Saturna had spoken earlier. “Don’t listen to the hearts of the world; the answer lies within. You know the truth.” Did I really? Everything around me, about me, seemed to contradict what I knew to be true, everything except the old witch and her taunting presents. If I did know the truth, what did it matter when I no way to change anything?
The sky lit up above my head, and in the midst of the small, but loud, explosions, I chanted over and over again, until the pain and power brought silence to my thoughts.