07-08-2016, 01:43 PM
Marijuana's comment about wandering coaxes a snort out of me. I know that feeling far too well. “Yeah, same here. I haven't been great at staying in one place lately, truth be told.” I left the Jungle ages ago, and haven't managed to settle anywhere since. Still doesn't feel right to go back either, not as anything other than a quick visit. Echo Trails is more my children's home than mine, welcome though I am. Nowhere has felt like home since...well. Since the only person who has ever been my home killed herself.
The Jungle tried. Tangled me up in her warm embrace from the moment I was born, and it stuck well enough that I wound up reigning for a while. But a place was never quite good enough, never quite alive enough. Home is love, home is family, and it's been...unsettled for far too long. That old cliché that home is where the heart is? Mine's scattered around the world, little pieces of my heart with all of my children, my grandchildren...and the rest of it has been restless since it finished putting itself back together. I know well enough that home should be in this body, in my chest, beating steady and sure, racing with excitement or passion, but I have never...even after decades on my own, it's the loneliest goddamn thing in the world for home to be in me, instead of in us.
Grunting, I shake my head and refocus my attention on the amusing stranger in front of me – who moves toward me, joining me in the water. “In a manner of speaking. Two of my children and their families live in Echo Trails. I spend most of the time I'm not wandering there.” Helping with the little ones, being surrounded by people I love, it has always made me feel more grounded. Helping feed the new babies has me thinking an awful lot about the past. About other times I've nursed foals, and what life was like then.
It's not even her that I miss anymore. Well, that's not entirely true. But mostly I miss being that close with someone. Feeling whole and home and like I belong. Loving someone, without holding anything back. Bringing new life into the world as a testament to how deeply we loved. I don't think I have been as happy in my entire life as I was when I was nursing Xero. Just the three of us, wrapped up in each other in the depths of the Jungle. Together, and home, and so fucking happy.
Even then, though. Even then, there was the lingering weight of tragedy, of the son who was stolen from us. Were we ever really happy, without devastation hiding at the edge of every touch? It's been so long, I can't even tell anymore.
Fuck. Right. Talking. Again, I redirect my attention to Marijuana, who is studying his own reflection. I understand that feeling, not recognizing your own face. Well, of course I do. Obviously. My face can look like a stranger's with no more than a thought. I've worn so many shapes, it's no wonder nothing feels like home. “What about you? Is there somewhere you call home, or are you more of a nomad?” I tilt my head, watching him as he studies our reflections. Quite the pair indeed.
The Jungle tried. Tangled me up in her warm embrace from the moment I was born, and it stuck well enough that I wound up reigning for a while. But a place was never quite good enough, never quite alive enough. Home is love, home is family, and it's been...unsettled for far too long. That old cliché that home is where the heart is? Mine's scattered around the world, little pieces of my heart with all of my children, my grandchildren...and the rest of it has been restless since it finished putting itself back together. I know well enough that home should be in this body, in my chest, beating steady and sure, racing with excitement or passion, but I have never...even after decades on my own, it's the loneliest goddamn thing in the world for home to be in me, instead of in us.
Grunting, I shake my head and refocus my attention on the amusing stranger in front of me – who moves toward me, joining me in the water. “In a manner of speaking. Two of my children and their families live in Echo Trails. I spend most of the time I'm not wandering there.” Helping with the little ones, being surrounded by people I love, it has always made me feel more grounded. Helping feed the new babies has me thinking an awful lot about the past. About other times I've nursed foals, and what life was like then.
It's not even her that I miss anymore. Well, that's not entirely true. But mostly I miss being that close with someone. Feeling whole and home and like I belong. Loving someone, without holding anything back. Bringing new life into the world as a testament to how deeply we loved. I don't think I have been as happy in my entire life as I was when I was nursing Xero. Just the three of us, wrapped up in each other in the depths of the Jungle. Together, and home, and so fucking happy.
Even then, though. Even then, there was the lingering weight of tragedy, of the son who was stolen from us. Were we ever really happy, without devastation hiding at the edge of every touch? It's been so long, I can't even tell anymore.
Fuck. Right. Talking. Again, I redirect my attention to Marijuana, who is studying his own reflection. I understand that feeling, not recognizing your own face. Well, of course I do. Obviously. My face can look like a stranger's with no more than a thought. I've worn so many shapes, it's no wonder nothing feels like home. “What about you? Is there somewhere you call home, or are you more of a nomad?” I tilt my head, watching him as he studies our reflections. Quite the pair indeed.