Disclaimer: Just playing, will put everything back when finished.
Making room in an apartment for four that originally housed two is a challenge. Scratch that, it's almost impossible.
Never has she felt happier that her stuff didn't take up that much space, but even the stuff she has has to be shifted around with her son sharing the loft.
Out of these belongings there are only a few pieces Emma holds most dear. Her baby blanket is number one of course, now more than ever, but there's also a book. The first book she ever remembers being read to her, the book that was also sent back with her the first time.
More than once she's wanted to throw it out, the title itself she's scoffed at for years, but try as she might she just couldn't let it go.
In the twisted fairy tale that's become her life, however, she forgets all about the book, until she's moving some items on a shelf so Henry can have a space, and the worn copy shakes loose.
"Are You My Mother?"
She blinks, trying not to let the keepsake get to her, and leans down to pick it up just as she hears familiar footsteps on the stairs.
"Emma? Lunch is almost-"
So much for not letting it get to her. The emotions that run across Snow's face at the sight of the book are more than enough to turn up her own.
"Yours?" the woman finally manages to ask, and Emma can only nod.
"May I?"
"Sure," she hands it over, happy to not be the focus of such bittersweet attention for just a moment.
Ever so carefully Snow opens up the book at the very front, and Emma suddenly knows what she's looking for.
Because there, just on the inside, in fading ink, is a message from her would have been mother.
Emma,
May you always find what you're looking for, no matter what.
A lone tear manages to escape her mother's eyes, and when she feels her own tears well up Emma can take no more.
"Hey."
Instantly Snow's sad gaze is on her, but she pushes forward, determined to get the words out and right.
"You need to know, she was right. I found what I was looking for, and like that baby bird I didn't stop until I did."
She has other words planned, but apparently those are enough, because she's now in her mother's arms, being held so close, so loved that everything that's happening to her somehow seems manageable.
Yes, I know who you are. You are not a kitten, you are not a hen, you are not a dog, you are not a cow, you are not a boat or a plane or a snort. You are bird, and you are my mother.