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Broken Bindings

by anonpencil

Chapter 20: Page 20

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Page 20

~*~

Let me make a few things for you. Let me make you smile. I'll give it all my best shot, though I cannot promise it will be perfect. I will try to remember what things looked like when I was whole, when I had eyes to see with. Let me show you things I once saw, show you things that once made me smile and laugh. Maybe they will at least make you feel lighter in your heart. Whatever burdens you carry, whatever stresses weigh heavy on your shoulders, please unload them. Relax. Breathe.

Let me show you simple things. Nice things. Lovely things.

Let me show you.

Some mornings, just as the sun touched the trees outside, I would look out and see the shapes of deer standing at the tree line. They would be outlined with what looked like liquid silver from the early day's sun. They would go still if they saw me, their ears would prick up, and they would tremble, as if being still took so much effort. As if they were always meant to be in motion. Sometimes I would try to talk to them, to call them nearer to me. But they would dart away, as graceful and nimble as a gust of wind.

I always found them so lovely, so simple and peaceful. They were a fearful animal, it's true, but whenever they moved, it was like someone with a paint brush was recreating them constantly. That they were born anew with each muscle twitch, each turn of their head, each step of their narrow feet.

They were my favorite animals when I was little.

Whenever I would feel alone, I would look into the sky or trees and try to find a bird. I would imagine I could whisper to the bird and tell it everything I felt, everything I saw. I would tell it to fly away, far away. To soar over mountains, through cities, down into deep valleys, across rivers and oceans. I would tell it to go and then come back to me and tell me all it had seen, everyone it had met in its travels.

I would coo at the birds, tweet at them in my best imitations of their calls. And sometimes I would see them raise their heads and look at me. Their eyes would show confusion, interest, maybe a little hesitance. But I would pour my feelings and meanings into those words. I would tell it that we were friends now. That we were connected. And I may be silly, but maybe they knew sometimes. Maybe they understood me.

Even if they didn't come back and tell me of their journey, as I asked them to, I knew that my words were with them, my thoughts. So wherever they flew, wherever they traveled to, some small, wispy part of me was at least with them. Free.

As time passed in our little house by the woods, I would see flowers grow each season. The grass would renew itself, the trees would shed their leaves like tired coats. Even the air would change flavors with the seasons. It would taste like stone and vanilla each winter, and like crisp lettuce right before the first snowfall. In the autumn, it would taste like warm cinnamon, wood, and moss. In the spring everything tasted like fresh ground, the way the earth smells, and sugar. But in the summer, when the flowers were no longer new, and the trees were thick with foliage, everything tasted like ripe fruit, nuttiness, and dried herbs. It was my favorite flavor of all.

Watching everything go from old to new over and over taught me something important. Nothing ever ends. Nothing is ever over. When one thing passes on, it is quickly replaced. Nothing stays the same, but at the same time, everything continues in the same vein, becoming the same and different in a never ending cycle. It's beautiful, but it's also a little sad.

Even though we will never fully vanish from the air, the soil, the world, we're also all replaceable. People will forget us.

Well... not for a while at least. Not for all of us. I certainly know I won't forget you for a long, long time.

I... hope you feel alright now. I hope you feel happy and at ease. I hope you feel the way I felt first thing in the morning on a summer's day, when I was still a child. And I hope that feeling returns to you often. I just wonder if you have memories like that too, times you go back to in order to feel safe, happy, strong, content.

I wish you could tell me about them. I could use some new happy places to retreat to in my mind.

Next Chapter: Page 21 Estimated time remaining: 53 Minutes
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