Title: Better Than
This
Author: Chele
Rating: G
Category: Angst
Code: S
Summary: How do we become who we are?
Author's Notes: This
fic is dedicated to my parents.
Acknowledgment: Thanks to my
beautiful beta, Starsearcher!
-----
She took a deep breath, inhaling the afternoon sky as she slowly swung back and forth on the park swing. The sun's heat radiated on her skin, kissing it with warmth.
The tears came quickly, while her lips quivered. She tried to control them, to make them stop, but it was useless. They had leaked from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks, and falling off her chin.
Perking her ears, she listened for it—silence. She could hear their syntax—birds twittering. Their sound—cars driving by. Their pitch—kids screaming as they played. Their whispers—trees rustling through the soft breeze.
It was all silence, her—Hoshi's—silence. In her silence, she felt peace.
-----
Hoshi stepped into her home—a small one-bedroom studio—her home. Stopping at the doorway, she stared at the figure that was slowly rocking back and forth on the bunk.
"Mom," she spoke.
"My head is high and I'm on ground," the figure said, continuing the rocking motion.
"Mom." she repeated.
The figure, a pale Asian woman, turned to her, staring straight through her.
At a cautious pace, Hoshi walked towards the woman, and gently sat next to her.
"Mom," she whispered. "Did you remember to take your medicine?"
"They told me not to," the woman said, her voice hoarse.
"But you need to. Dad spent a lot of money for your medication, so you can get better." Hoshi's voice cracked, an attempt to hide her desperation.
"My head is high and I'm on ground." The woman repeated her phrase, as if it were something important.
Carefully, she eased off the bunk, away from the woman, and picked up the orange tube, standing erect on the bedside night-stand. She turned her attention back to the woman but felt the sting of a slap on her hands. The orange tube clattered to the floor.
"I don't want that!" the woman shouted.
"Okay." She sighed. Then, scooting closer to the head of the bed, Hoshi patted her lap and said, "Lie down."
The woman laid her head on her daughter's lap and stretched her body across the bunk.
Hoshi watched her mother relax, and sensing her tension ease, she began to stroke the long, silky, ebony hair that lay splattered on her lap.
She remembered her silence—the syntax, the sound, the pitch, the whispers—her silence of peace. Her humming was low and her song, sung softly.
Close your
eyes, This lullaby A time better than this…I know.
rest your mind,
for I will sing you
a lullaby.
will let you know,
there will be a
better time.
-----
Twelve years later…
"So, Hoshi," the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Southerner said as he turned his attention away from their other two table companions, Travis and Malcolm.
"What inspired you to be a linguist?"
Three pairs of eyes watched and awaited her answer.