12-21-2020, 06:56 PM
one lives in hope of becoming a memory
When I look back up at @[Yanhua], I could tell that my admission pains him. It sends a brief flash of his memory from when mother had confronted him, and I could feel the remnants of his pain. And rather than feel scared, I felt guilty. Had I done something wrong?
Truth be told, these brief memories had not exactly translated into hardship for me. I felt that each time I had received one of these painful memories from Borderline, that I had been drawn in ever closer to my mother. It had never scared me. It had never scarred me. I saw myself as helping her, and that felt good. It felt right. It had never taken away from my life, as one might expect. It actually had the effect of making me older and wiser beyond my age, while I still enjoyed every minute of my childhood to the fullest.
I wish I could convey that to my father now. And unbeknownst to me, he could see a memory of comfort in which I had given my mother a nudge in her sadness to lessen the pain. The memory sent remnants of the happiness we had shared with it as well.
When he looks down at me, I look up at him, hoping to not trip on a root in the process. Luckily, it is a happy glance that ends with him giving me a lengthy description of this strange, but oddly satisfying gift. I look back down at where I am going, taking some time to really think through his words. They were more than a little confusing for a tiny filly such as myself, so it takes me a moment to really process the things he says.
When he says that the memories don’t always have to be sad, I tilt my head and look up at him, as though this little piece of information had peaked my interests–which it had. I had never really experienced any happy memories. Mother and I had made plenty of happy memories, but… Actually, when I really start to think about it, there had been moments where some of these happy memories had randomly popped into my head, and suddenly, I realize that I had, in fact, been seeing her happy memories as well!
A big grin breaks across my face, and I skip a beat on the path, picking up my little hooves in a kind of dance.
“Yes, I would like that!” I say, breathlessly. For the first time since I had left mother’s side, I felt truly glad that I had gone out in search of my father. Despite the fear and confusion that had led me here, this felt right. In response to this feeling, I gently bump his side with my shoulder and give him a wide smile. “Thank you–” I begin, then stop. I had wanted to call him ‘daddy’, but a part of me was still afraid to. Would he want to be called that? Was it too soon? Did I want to call him that?
Truth be told, these brief memories had not exactly translated into hardship for me. I felt that each time I had received one of these painful memories from Borderline, that I had been drawn in ever closer to my mother. It had never scared me. It had never scarred me. I saw myself as helping her, and that felt good. It felt right. It had never taken away from my life, as one might expect. It actually had the effect of making me older and wiser beyond my age, while I still enjoyed every minute of my childhood to the fullest.
I wish I could convey that to my father now. And unbeknownst to me, he could see a memory of comfort in which I had given my mother a nudge in her sadness to lessen the pain. The memory sent remnants of the happiness we had shared with it as well.
When he looks down at me, I look up at him, hoping to not trip on a root in the process. Luckily, it is a happy glance that ends with him giving me a lengthy description of this strange, but oddly satisfying gift. I look back down at where I am going, taking some time to really think through his words. They were more than a little confusing for a tiny filly such as myself, so it takes me a moment to really process the things he says.
When he says that the memories don’t always have to be sad, I tilt my head and look up at him, as though this little piece of information had peaked my interests–which it had. I had never really experienced any happy memories. Mother and I had made plenty of happy memories, but… Actually, when I really start to think about it, there had been moments where some of these happy memories had randomly popped into my head, and suddenly, I realize that I had, in fact, been seeing her happy memories as well!
A big grin breaks across my face, and I skip a beat on the path, picking up my little hooves in a kind of dance.
“Yes, I would like that!” I say, breathlessly. For the first time since I had left mother’s side, I felt truly glad that I had gone out in search of my father. Despite the fear and confusion that had led me here, this felt right. In response to this feeling, I gently bump his side with my shoulder and give him a wide smile. “Thank you–” I begin, then stop. I had wanted to call him ‘daddy’, but a part of me was still afraid to. Would he want to be called that? Was it too soon? Did I want to call him that?
memorie
