Post by Sefirah nó Jasmine on Oct 6, 2008 14:46:08 GMT -5
I had just had my debut and would be making plans to meet the Marquist soon to discuss my marque. I was very excited, but a part of me felt extremely guilty. It had not dawned on me until recently, just prior to deciding to visit my mother for a day, that I had left her no one. My father was dead, even though he was never around to begin with, and she had never had any other children… I was her first and only child, the one thing she had constant in her life, and I had left her.
No, you ABANDONED her I through to myself. I knew it wasn’t true, that she wanted the best for me and knew that that meant leaving and finding my own true path, but a part of me couldn’t get past the idea that everything had happened so quickly. My tenth birthday, my induction into the sacred service of Naamah under the tutelage of Jasmine House, so much heartbreak and joy in one single, life-changing event. The bottom line was, for some reason, I felt like I had left my mother with nothing. I needed to go see her, and so, as I stepped into the carriage that would take me home, drawing my heavy, velvet hood over my head, I took a deep breath of the crisp Autumn air, tasting the scent of the crisp leaves on my tongue, savouring it, and closed the door behind me. I had sent word to her a few weeks back that I would make this trip, and I could feel her delight in the words she wrote back to me. I remembered the letter, word for word, going over it in my head, drawing strength from it. Things have been good here, albeit quiet. My work has picked up quite a bit, have your friends been slipping my name to their patrons? I chuckled warmly at how she could still make me laugh, even when I felt I didn’t deserve it. Sighing, I rested my head against the cushion behind me, shivering slightly at the chill of the autumn. I knew it would be a lengthy ride, with a few stops here and there to water the horse and for the horseman to stretch, but I was going home.
The steady clip-clop of the horse’s hooves lulled me to sleep. Before I knew it, we had stopped. It was dark, I was a little muddled, but stepping out into the cool night, and seeing my childhood home caused a wave of nostalgia to wash over me. My mother was standing at the door, on the front porch, looking in my direction. Our eyes locked and she smiled brilliantly. I fought hard to hide the tears in my eyes, but saw that she let hers spill freely down her cheeks. I laughed mildly and ran to her, arms outstretched, hugging her tight the moment I reached her. I felt like a child again, in my mother’s arms. It reminded me of the time I had lost her in the market, crying, worried she had left me, only to find her standing at a stall, the same look of worry on her face as our eyes locked and I ran to her, overwhelmed only with happiness that she had not left me. I suspect she felt the same way.
“Oh mother,” I sighed quietly, wiping the tears from her eyes and brushing her long, dark hair back from her face, “you are definitely a sight for sore eyes.” I smiled warmly at her, a single teardrop taking its watery course down my cheek.
“Oh, child, you’ve made an old woman weep!” She laughed, sniffling and shaking her head, ridding herself of the melancholia. “Enough standing in the cold! Come in, I am sure you are famished. I had some of the village boys build me an extra room in a small hut out back. Your rider can stay there.” She looked back at him and he nodded in approval. “Lad!” she called, “are you hungry?” He nodded bashfully in concurrence as he secured the horse’s lead to the post out front. “I will bring something out to you,” she called again, “make yourself comfortable, please!” She looped her arm inside mine and, with that, we went inside.
The small fireplace was bright with smouldering embers, and the scent of wood burning and ash filled the air, along with nutmeg, vanilla and cinnamon. She had baked, that was for sure. I couldn’t wait to taste it.
“So,” she said, sitting down as I hung my cloak, “how is everything in the Night Court?”
“Good… good,” I replied, my mind somewhere else, “I had my debut not too long ago, as you know. I will be making an appointment to meet with the marquist sometime soon.”
“That’s exceptional,” she beamed, her face alight, "I am so proud of you!" Then her demeanour darkened somewhat.
“What is it mother, what’s the matter?” I knitted my eyebrows together in concern.
She sighed. “Really, it’s nothing it’s just… well… It has been a mite lonely without you.”
I leaned back in my chair, sighing as my heart dipped into my stomach. I knew I had left her alone. I knew it would hurt her… but I had to. She came over to my side as I rested my chin in my hand, fighting back the tears that had threatened to break through before I left.
“It is not your fault, darling, really it’s not. It’s just the lamentings of an old woman.” She forced a smile to her lips and I looked away. Still sacrificing herself for me I thought to myself.
“Mother, maybe when I am done I can come back and help out,” I said, with very little convincing conviction.
“No, no, no. That is not what I meant for you to say at all, darling. I don’t want you to come back for me, I just want the visits, they are enough. I was thinking though… well… maybe… maybe I should start looking for another love? I mean, I doted on the memory of your father for so long… maybe it’s time I learn to love again, and you too. You need to find someone to love you. Don’t let my pain hinder you. Sure, it hurts, but it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world.”
I was shocked at what I was hearing. Not out of anger, Gods no, but out of happiness that my mother finally thought she might be able to move on and find something more for herself. I was touched that she thought I might be upset, that she wanted clearance from me. I took her hand in mine and caressed the smooth skin on the back of her hand. “Mother, I want happiness for you, wherever and however you find it, you have my blessing. As for me,” I trailed off. That was another story altogether. “So,” I pressed on, “who is the lad?” I flashed her a crooked smile.
She laughed lightly, the laughter I remember of my childhood, slapped me playfully on the shoulder and headed to the kitchen, calling back, “wouldn’t you like to know!”
I chuckled and followed her into the kitchen. Yes, I definitely was home.
No, you ABANDONED her I through to myself. I knew it wasn’t true, that she wanted the best for me and knew that that meant leaving and finding my own true path, but a part of me couldn’t get past the idea that everything had happened so quickly. My tenth birthday, my induction into the sacred service of Naamah under the tutelage of Jasmine House, so much heartbreak and joy in one single, life-changing event. The bottom line was, for some reason, I felt like I had left my mother with nothing. I needed to go see her, and so, as I stepped into the carriage that would take me home, drawing my heavy, velvet hood over my head, I took a deep breath of the crisp Autumn air, tasting the scent of the crisp leaves on my tongue, savouring it, and closed the door behind me. I had sent word to her a few weeks back that I would make this trip, and I could feel her delight in the words she wrote back to me. I remembered the letter, word for word, going over it in my head, drawing strength from it. Things have been good here, albeit quiet. My work has picked up quite a bit, have your friends been slipping my name to their patrons? I chuckled warmly at how she could still make me laugh, even when I felt I didn’t deserve it. Sighing, I rested my head against the cushion behind me, shivering slightly at the chill of the autumn. I knew it would be a lengthy ride, with a few stops here and there to water the horse and for the horseman to stretch, but I was going home.
The steady clip-clop of the horse’s hooves lulled me to sleep. Before I knew it, we had stopped. It was dark, I was a little muddled, but stepping out into the cool night, and seeing my childhood home caused a wave of nostalgia to wash over me. My mother was standing at the door, on the front porch, looking in my direction. Our eyes locked and she smiled brilliantly. I fought hard to hide the tears in my eyes, but saw that she let hers spill freely down her cheeks. I laughed mildly and ran to her, arms outstretched, hugging her tight the moment I reached her. I felt like a child again, in my mother’s arms. It reminded me of the time I had lost her in the market, crying, worried she had left me, only to find her standing at a stall, the same look of worry on her face as our eyes locked and I ran to her, overwhelmed only with happiness that she had not left me. I suspect she felt the same way.
“Oh mother,” I sighed quietly, wiping the tears from her eyes and brushing her long, dark hair back from her face, “you are definitely a sight for sore eyes.” I smiled warmly at her, a single teardrop taking its watery course down my cheek.
“Oh, child, you’ve made an old woman weep!” She laughed, sniffling and shaking her head, ridding herself of the melancholia. “Enough standing in the cold! Come in, I am sure you are famished. I had some of the village boys build me an extra room in a small hut out back. Your rider can stay there.” She looked back at him and he nodded in approval. “Lad!” she called, “are you hungry?” He nodded bashfully in concurrence as he secured the horse’s lead to the post out front. “I will bring something out to you,” she called again, “make yourself comfortable, please!” She looped her arm inside mine and, with that, we went inside.
The small fireplace was bright with smouldering embers, and the scent of wood burning and ash filled the air, along with nutmeg, vanilla and cinnamon. She had baked, that was for sure. I couldn’t wait to taste it.
“So,” she said, sitting down as I hung my cloak, “how is everything in the Night Court?”
“Good… good,” I replied, my mind somewhere else, “I had my debut not too long ago, as you know. I will be making an appointment to meet with the marquist sometime soon.”
“That’s exceptional,” she beamed, her face alight, "I am so proud of you!" Then her demeanour darkened somewhat.
“What is it mother, what’s the matter?” I knitted my eyebrows together in concern.
She sighed. “Really, it’s nothing it’s just… well… It has been a mite lonely without you.”
I leaned back in my chair, sighing as my heart dipped into my stomach. I knew I had left her alone. I knew it would hurt her… but I had to. She came over to my side as I rested my chin in my hand, fighting back the tears that had threatened to break through before I left.
“It is not your fault, darling, really it’s not. It’s just the lamentings of an old woman.” She forced a smile to her lips and I looked away. Still sacrificing herself for me I thought to myself.
“Mother, maybe when I am done I can come back and help out,” I said, with very little convincing conviction.
“No, no, no. That is not what I meant for you to say at all, darling. I don’t want you to come back for me, I just want the visits, they are enough. I was thinking though… well… maybe… maybe I should start looking for another love? I mean, I doted on the memory of your father for so long… maybe it’s time I learn to love again, and you too. You need to find someone to love you. Don’t let my pain hinder you. Sure, it hurts, but it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world.”
I was shocked at what I was hearing. Not out of anger, Gods no, but out of happiness that my mother finally thought she might be able to move on and find something more for herself. I was touched that she thought I might be upset, that she wanted clearance from me. I took her hand in mine and caressed the smooth skin on the back of her hand. “Mother, I want happiness for you, wherever and however you find it, you have my blessing. As for me,” I trailed off. That was another story altogether. “So,” I pressed on, “who is the lad?” I flashed her a crooked smile.
She laughed lightly, the laughter I remember of my childhood, slapped me playfully on the shoulder and headed to the kitchen, calling back, “wouldn’t you like to know!”
I chuckled and followed her into the kitchen. Yes, I definitely was home.