09-06-2016, 06:15 PM
now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?
Reagan playfully nipped at Elora’s neck and giggled as she rolled onto her back and kicked up at the dandelion fuzz. She would play with this child all day if she could—being able to sit around and tell stories of leprechauns and good luck charms…but she had no such luck or such a happiness to tell. She had grown under the school of religion and told the right way to be and the right way to do things. There was always a consequence, and never a reward, and so the happy child that was Reagan had grown up far too young and far too early to appreciate such frivolities. And yet, as an old woman—who would forever be immortal—she dreamed leprechauns and rainbows and little gold chocolate coins that could give the sweetest human child a toothache.
And still remembered to say her prayers at night. She was discovering more of herself with each passing day, for without the power she was birthed with, she was learning more about who she was, and what she was, and she was finding that the right way to be, was simply to be. A lesson taught to her by a week old little girl whose only goal in life was to make each day as awesome as the last. And so, rolling over again, she butted Elora in the bum, and bounded off like the filly she wasn’t shouting at the top of her lungs with a laugh, “TAG, YOU’RE IT!”
And still remembered to say her prayers at night. She was discovering more of herself with each passing day, for without the power she was birthed with, she was learning more about who she was, and what she was, and she was finding that the right way to be, was simply to be. A lesson taught to her by a week old little girl whose only goal in life was to make each day as awesome as the last. And so, rolling over again, she butted Elora in the bum, and bounded off like the filly she wasn’t shouting at the top of her lungs with a laugh, “TAG, YOU’RE IT!”