Requiem in an Afternoon Sitting

Requiem in an Afternoon Sitting

          Sitting alone in the shade, a red headed woman sat and enjoyed the peace of the day.  She sat on a floating pink pillow with a large umbrella shielding her eyes and body from the intense rays of the sun.  Though the clear, cloudless sky brought sunshine and tranquility to this haven amidst the chaos of the world, the woman seemed oblivious.  Lost in thought, the figure just stared out across the yard of the household she lived at. 

          This woman, though partially hidden from view, was still discernable to any who would care to look.  At a glance, the woman looked to be a young woman with a massive mane of red hair, slightly tanned skin, an unbelievable bosom, and nearly flawless legs.  However, upon closer inspection, there are obvious lines around her eyes, though these are hidden from view by a pair of large, dark sunglasses.  Although she appears to be in her middle ages, it is impossible to really tell.  Even if she has seen more than two thousand centuries, the passing of the years has been worn well by her.  For all her calm and serene beauty, it is apparent that the woman is concentrating on a large photo album held in her lap.

          The album appears ordinary, filled with pictures of family and friends.  And yet, as the lounging female peers at page after page, a small smile slowly spreads across her face.  The pictures are of herself and her family.  Though many of the photos are faded with age, all carry with them the weight of memories; until the red haired woman passes from this life to the next none of the photos will ever truly fade.

          The first few pages are of a by-gone era.  Taken when the woman in them hadn't even seen her thousandth century, many of the pictures contain a smiling blond man and a bouncing baby boy.  The child, more often than not held by the very woman looking at the pictures, has the father's blond curls but he also has his mother's emerald green eyes.  Those eyes carried a spark of joy and curiosity, an enjoyment of life that only children can have.  A lone tear fell upon a picture of the family, shed from similar eyes; eyes that no longer had that same joy and curiosity.

The next set of pictures the red headed woman lingers over.  It is doubtful anyone other than herself has ever seen these particular photos; If certain people in the house saw them, what would they think?  The pictures are from another time, also long ago.  Through patience and diligence, the red headed woman had finally succeeded in creating a family of her own; one that none could take from her as her first family did. 

And what a child she had created!  The baby had spiky cyan Locks, similar in style to her mother/creator but still uniquely her own.  In the second page of pictures, the spirited young child is finally captured with her eyes open.  The baby's golden, feline eyes held such wonderment, such pure unadulterated joy that the woman looking at the pictures began crying anew.  There were many pictures of this young child, mostly of different moments in the child's life as she grew into a young woman.  The lady viewing these memories had to stop a moment, apparently closing her eyes and remembering how things had been, before she was betrayed and lost still more of her family.

          Finally, the pictures progressed to a more current time frame.  And again, the young girl with the cyan locks is prominent in the pictures.  Only now, the child-turned-woman has lost that wonderment and joy her younger self had positively beamed with.  Instead, she held disdain for the lady taking the photographs; the cold piercing gaze cut to the heart of the red headed woman, causing fresh tears.

          There were other pictures, of a young boy with short hair and warm brown eyes; of a blue haired, pink eyed young girl playing merrily with a brown and white half-rabbit half-cat; of a purple haired princess slowly tending to a small garden; of a pair of Galaxy police officers singing karaoke lat into the night.  There were still more pictures of the cyan haired girl, but most of them were with the brown eyed boy; only then did it seem that the golden eyed female truly looked like the child of old as her face filled with the simple joy of living. 

All of these pictures, for all their wonderment, still cannot answer one single question:  What is the woman holding this album doing looking through this? 

          Even as the red headed woman is sitting in the shade and looking at the photograph, another shadow appears.  This shadow looks much like her, having a spiky man of hair.  The cyan haired girl walks slowly up to her elder.  After a few wordless moments, she slips to a sitting position next to the woman who gave her life.  After sitting there for a moment, the golden-eyed girl laid her head on the lap of the other woman and leaned into her. 

Startled for a moment, the lady on the floating pillow could only look down at the girl she had given life to.  Slowly, gingerly, she placed a hand on the other girl's head and smoothed out the spiky cyan hair.  The red headed lady let a few tears fall, but her smile alleviated any fear that she was sad.  Instead, the two stayed like so for a long time, talking and laughing and crying.  Eventually, the young man that the cyan haired girl seemed to be fixated on appears, calling for his missing friend.  Standing, the younger woman leaned over and kissed the red headed woman on the cheek before floating to her friend.  The mother just smiled and turned back to her photo album.

What is the lady thinking as she looks through the album?  Does she think of her friends, some long gone; or does she think of her family – of husband and children; or does she think of herself and how she fits into any and all of the precious memories?

          I think that none of these are correct.  Instead, I think this woman is thinking about this day, this moment; there have been few days wherein this red headed woman – quiet possibly the greatest scientific genius in the universe - could sit and reminisce about all she has gained and lost.  I think her smile is more for a day of remembering in as much as it is for the memories themselves.  So enjoy this day, lounging mother.  Enjoy this day and reap the benefits of a good life filled with many happy memories.

Dedicated to and written for all the mothers who think that their children do not think of them:

May all of your days include moments such as this!

I do not own any of the TM!RO characters.  They all are the property of Pioneer/AIC.  I can't afford them, and since I can't write or draw well enough to do them justice, it is better this way.