08-21-2019, 01:52 AM
The small bay filly stirs, and she tries to blink her dark brown eyes open. Even in this pre-dawn light, it feels almost too bright, and she wishes she could curl back into that impossibly dark place she had been in before. But she feels something stirring next to her; something warm and familiar, someone with a heartbeat that nearly matches hers. She feels a touch to her knee, and instinctively, she follows it. She reaches her small muzzle forward, touching her nose against her sister’s, and there is a whisper of a smile that reaches her lips.
There are voices, too, drowning out the beating of their hearts. She flutters her too-long lashes a few more times, slowly easing the light in, and she finds the sterling face of her father. Her mother is standing next to him, her shoulder resting against his, and though their voices don’t make any sense yet, she knows that they are talking about her – about them.
Plumeria watches, and even though there is exhaustion that drives bone-deep, there is also an unimaginable amount of love. For the sweet, newborn girls, but for him, too. The feel of his mouth against her neck lends its own kind of strength, because it seems to jumpstart something inside of her. There is still a sort of disbelief that he is back, that he is here, that they have twins again and that they are alive and their lives are almost normal. “Karina and Kade,” she repeats after him, and even through the fatigue she manages a beautiful smile. “Perfect.”
She leans into his touch, releasing a shuddering breath, and she presses a kiss to his neck before straightening herself away from him. She touches each little girl in turn, both of them having already managed to stand themselves up. Her lips press to the top of Karina’s head, cautious to not interrupt her precarious balance, before turning to caress Kade’s hip as she wavers on her other side. Her dark brown eyes lift to find his as they nurse, and her heart flutters in her chest. She wonders when the last time was that she felt happy like this. The last time everything felt right, and like it wasn’t on the verge of falling apart. Or like it wasn’t some fragile bubble ready to burst.
And so she shifts again, with their girls still at her side, and she lets his mane fill her nose again as she whispers into the strands of it, “I love you, Jarris.” She wonders sometimes if she says it too much, if he ever grew tired of her hearing her say it over and over since he came back. Because he is just like her happiness; always on the verge of leaving, always just a breath away from being taken away from her. She doesn’t know when the last time will be, before he is gone again for days or weeks or years or a lifetime.
Maybe if she says it enough, he won’t go. Maybe that was the mistake she made last time, and every time before.
P L U M E R I A
when all of the light is gone
a single spark is all I need.
There are voices, too, drowning out the beating of their hearts. She flutters her too-long lashes a few more times, slowly easing the light in, and she finds the sterling face of her father. Her mother is standing next to him, her shoulder resting against his, and though their voices don’t make any sense yet, she knows that they are talking about her – about them.
Plumeria watches, and even though there is exhaustion that drives bone-deep, there is also an unimaginable amount of love. For the sweet, newborn girls, but for him, too. The feel of his mouth against her neck lends its own kind of strength, because it seems to jumpstart something inside of her. There is still a sort of disbelief that he is back, that he is here, that they have twins again and that they are alive and their lives are almost normal. “Karina and Kade,” she repeats after him, and even through the fatigue she manages a beautiful smile. “Perfect.”
She leans into his touch, releasing a shuddering breath, and she presses a kiss to his neck before straightening herself away from him. She touches each little girl in turn, both of them having already managed to stand themselves up. Her lips press to the top of Karina’s head, cautious to not interrupt her precarious balance, before turning to caress Kade’s hip as she wavers on her other side. Her dark brown eyes lift to find his as they nurse, and her heart flutters in her chest. She wonders when the last time was that she felt happy like this. The last time everything felt right, and like it wasn’t on the verge of falling apart. Or like it wasn’t some fragile bubble ready to burst.
And so she shifts again, with their girls still at her side, and she lets his mane fill her nose again as she whispers into the strands of it, “I love you, Jarris.” She wonders sometimes if she says it too much, if he ever grew tired of her hearing her say it over and over since he came back. Because he is just like her happiness; always on the verge of leaving, always just a breath away from being taken away from her. She doesn’t know when the last time will be, before he is gone again for days or weeks or years or a lifetime.
Maybe if she says it enough, he won’t go. Maybe that was the mistake she made last time, and every time before.
when all of the light is gone
a single spark is all I need.