Disclaimer: Terra Nova is not mine.
Breathing feels different.
They were told to expect that. They were told that there would be adjustments. They were told that their bodies would have to get used to the change in the oxygen levels. She doesn't think that it is that. Well, she knows that that happened. There is too much of a scientist in her for her to not recognize that for what it is, but the part of her that still holds on to what one of her books once described as whimsy thinks that there is more to it than that. It isn't just that the air is better or that her once injured lungs have less work to do in this place. It is like everything inside of her recognizes that there is something different about this place (less on a cellular level and more on an every breath she takes feels like hope that things will be better here is flooding into her). She wants to laugh out loud at the way that the air feels new and full of possibilities, but she holds it in like she has so many things over the years. Being guarded isn't something that you can just let go off in an instant no matter how giddy being outside and breathing without filters and masks makes her feel.
She finds herself blinking her eyes more often than she can recall ever doing before. That seems odd given the level of pollution that her body used to deal with, but there is something about all of the colors that she finds around her now that seems to make her eyes think that they are malfunctioning (hence the need to keep blinking them in response). She wants to stare at all of the colors around her for as long as possible, but she knows that she cannot. They have schedules here - they have places that they are supposed to be and things that they are supposed to be doing. She cannot take the time that she would prefer to just stand and let it all soak in for her. She hopes there will be more time later when the rules are all learned and her survival training is finished. She hopes that she can find a quiet moment to be by herself and just be still while she lets the brights and the darks and the contrasts in between soak in to her vision.
She wants to reach out and touch everything all at once. She wants to pull the colors toward her and hug them close. She knows that it sounds silly, and she would never say it out loud because she does not have great faith in her ability to put things into words that would help other people understand some of the things which flit through her head. She just thinks it - she thinks about how warm the colors feel and the way they mix with the hopeful feeling that she gets from the air to make her want to curl up somewhere undisturbed while she processes all of it slowly and with all the reverence that she feels like the moments deserve. This place seems to call up all the hopes and dreams that she kept quiet about in her world before to the surface. She doesn't know what to make of that, but she is going to consider it a good thing. This place is supposed to be like that. The words second chance get thrown around a lot. She isn't always so sure that the people using them actually mean what it is that they are saying, but it is real for her family.
She's read stories that talked about window seats and reading books in the sunshine. She's even seen an old video of a cat taking a nap in a puddle of warmth created on a carpet by the light filtering in a window. She's never had a frame of reference for that before, but she does now. The sunlight (the unblocked by other things sunlight that she now has access to) that is touching her skin and soaking into her gives her a whole new appreciation for what those things meant. She can see herself reclining on a blanket in a field somewhere with a novel to keep her company and the freedom of getting lost for a few hours of being warm and comfortable. It sounds beautiful. It sounds like a dream. It sounds like something that she was never supposed to have in the reality that was hers, and she has to remind herself yet again that this isn't a dream. This isn't her imagination. This isn't something from one of her articles or stories that she has spent too much thought on and constructed in her head. This is real. It's real for her. It's real for her mother and dad and Josh and Zoe. They're here, and no one can send them back.
She has time to appreciate the air and the colors. She has time to enjoy the sun. She lets her eyes drop closed and her arms open out beside her for just a moment while she just breathes. Then, she knows that she has to keep moving. She has to pick up Zoe and start dinner. She has responsibilities and chores that need her attention. She can take a moment to soak everything in again tomorrow and the next day and the next. This isn't going anywhere. She isn't going anywhere.
She has the strangest urge to cry and to laugh all at the same time, so she does neither. She lets a small smile imprint itself across her features and makes no effort to try to put it away. She is content here in the overwhelmingness of it all.
She decides that she likes being overwhelmed, and she hopes that she never becomes so used to things being this way that she loses this feeling. She wants to keep it and treasure it. She wants it all to catch her at odd moments and sweep her up in the wonder of it all over again. She hopes that she gets to be overwhelmed every day for the rest of her life.
