A/N: I enrolled in a flash fiction class, and I really enjoyed the format. If anyone does review, I'd like to know whether or not this piece resonates with you. My goal with flash fiction is to create a solid story that provides some sort of emotional connection to its readers.
Mary's Grief
She knew from the beginning of her pregnancy that her son was destined for a greatness she did not fully understand. He was to be known by all, loved and hated, followed and forsaken. Yet when she held her infant son for the first time and felt his warmth and smelled his fine hair, she immediately forgot his divine mission and eventual mortal end. He was her son, and he needed her; there was nothing else to consider.
How surprised, then, Mary was, years later, when she found that her son was among doctors at the temple and astonishing them with his understanding of the Gospel. As he conversed with those great men, he seemed to transform right before her eyes. His once smooth, boyish face seemed more textured now, his stature more pronounced, his eyes; yes, his eyes seemed most different, though Mary could not quite distinguish what about them had changed.
After considerable time, her son removed himself from the presence of the doctors and glided toward the fountain to settle his thirst. Mary followed and gently touched her son's shoulder so as not to surprise him.
"My Son, knowest thou thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing?"
Her son's demeanor changed little, though his eyes related a rather bitter-sweet revelation.
"Beloved Woman, knowest not that I must be about my Father's business?"
He said this firmly, though without traces of disapproval or annoyance. The skin above Mary's brows collected in two small hills as she thought about his question. His father's business? What could Joseph have to do with this? He was looking for their son as well. Besides, his business did not extend to Jerusalem.
And suddenly, she knew. It hadn't to do with Joseph at all.
At present, her son's divine heritage shone through more than his mortal one. Yes, he was no longer the son Mary had always thought him to be; she had merely been a vessel, a means for his earthly entrance. His infancy, his early development, it all seemed very distant and dream-like. She bowed her head in seeming defeat, and her son responded with a warm smile. He hugged his mother knowing her thoughts.
While he led the way back to Nazareth on his mule, Mary gazed on her miraculously conceived son, focusing on his long, brown hair swaying in unison to the animal's strides. It was still him, yet it wasn't. His reminder had changed everything about him. Mary pondered these things in her heart, and she looked down at her hands which sparkled in the sun with her tears.
She could no longer view him as her son. He was now Jesus Christ, her Savior, her only pathway to salvation, and she wept all the way to Nazareth.
