It is difficult for me to describe how oneself feels at birth. Perhaps because it is an area no one often thinks about or because babies do not remember birth commonly.
But instead, I will describe the reactions nearest and most important to one Lily Evans.
Curdled on her father's lap, Little Petunia was sleeping gently while Florian Evans seemed to be stifling a yawn himself.
Marie Evans smiled fondly at both of them.
"Lily, Your family has a flower tradition, Doesn't it?"
Florian nodded, A faint smile entering his face,
"Lily and Petunia, Both flowers. Two of pair. They'll be close, I can guarantee you that."
He said it so confidently like it was the fact that I guess Marie couldn't help but laugh.
The sad thing is that in life, These things that seem so small are the best experiences in life.
And usually, the things that follow aren't so great.
Say for instance, That in 25 years. 3 of the people in this room of 4 will be dead.
People die all the time and that well-
Sucks.
And it is sometimes up to us to tell their stories. This lost to so many.
Because, No, this isn't the story of the often neglected sister or the parents trying so hard to raise their children or the story if brave individuals standing up for their rights and ability to vote and be respected as humans,
It's not the great moon landing, It isn't the Beatles.
This isn't about Lily Potter. Whose death was considered a tragedy, And whose descendants she would never truly know.
This is the story of Lily Evans, Student, Friend but most importantly, A sister.
And it is a story that needs to be told,
One way or another.
But as Marie and Florian laughed and Petunia dreamt of rainbows, beautiful dresses and Lily was barely awake.
Nothing really seemed to matter.
