Pendant que le loup attend ci–dessous, affamé et seul, il pleure à la lune,
"si seulement, si seulement."
I was a happy child. Or as happy as a red–cheeked babe with a boisterous laugh
could be. My hair was a faint, flaxen color in those days, before years and tears stained
my locks. My parents loved me, joy of their life that I was. They still loved me after, but
it was a stale, strained love. The kind that comes from clouded hearts and empty kisses
goodnight. In those days, my mother would make me cream cheese and jelly sandwiches
and let me eat them on a blanket in the yard. She would sing to me while I made pathetic
looking eggs for her, and she would eat them. My father would tell me stories, the most
amazing tales you would ever hear. Stories of love, adventure, and truth. Those were ones
I loved. Where the flawed protagonist won in the end, and the antagonist wasn't all bad,
where truth was uncovered and mysteries were brushed on but never dusted off, and
where there were twists and turns that kept me on my toes. My mother said I would make
a woman happy one day. My father said I would be a brave adventurer one day. Do you
think they were right? One day. Those fateful words. I never thought about this enigmatic
"one day," toddlers rarely do. The future is simply in the way of the present. And the past
is the remains of the present. Today is yesterday's tomorrow. Time slips away like sand
funneled through your fingers. You hear it so many times. "Don't let time pass you by,"
"Live every day as if it is your last," but we don't listen. We preach this wisdom, but do
we practice it? Do we feel it in our bones? Does the magic of those words bind us? I
sound so bitter, so…argh. But you would to. If your laugh faded, your face paled. If your
mother stopped eating your eggs, and your father stopped telling you stories. If you had
to keep something inside, deep. Something terrible. I was lucky, I was loved. There were
people who cared so much that they risked everything. But if the few who cared died
around you, whether in body or soul, you'd be bitter too. Wouldn't you?