dreamer
disclaimer: don't own!
rating: g
notes: i may submit a version of this to my school's literary magazine, so please be brutally honest! this is like the trial run. :) please mention anything you like, or don't like; the more specific, the better! thanks.
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The girl had always been a dreamer of sorts. She lived her formative years in a sort a idyllic existence, a world of faeries and imagination that her mother so kindly created for her. One of optimism and falsity, she knew, but one that kept her emotionally and morally intact throughout her adolescence.
In reality, her life had been one of struggle and disappointment. Born to an unwed and under aged mother, things were destined to be difficult from conception.
Making a decision to change their lives forever, the mother chose to strike out on her own, taking her tiny babe with her. Leaving the stifling Gilmore mansion also meant leaving a roof that had been securely placed over their heads. They two were lucky, though, and soon Lorelai had a job, and a place to live.
It was here that the world of pretend began.
A single room housed them; a bed on one side, a bathtub on the other.
Hanging a decorative curtain had helped. Other than that, there wasn't much to do.
They shared a single bed until Rory was 8 years old. True, not an idyllic existence for most, but perfect for the Gilmore girls.
They did everything is this little shed. The two fought pirates, waged wars, even hosted teas; together, they captured the world a dozen times over. By creating this aura of illusion, Lorelai was able to shield her daughter from the harsh light of the truth.
Truth 1: You have an absent father.
Truth 2: I'm too young to be a mother.
Truth 3: We are on our own.
Now, just because the girl was sheltered didn't mean she was stupid. Far from it, in fact. She saw past the veil placed over her, but it was because of these truths that she persevered the way she did.
It was because of these truths that she often fell back into her world of pretend. The one she would forever associate with her mother.
And so the dreamer was born, nursed, and nurtured. She believed in Tinker Bells and Velveteen Rabbits. She believed in whispers; the ones her mom shared with her in the darkest of nights, when the moon was on vacation and all the world was helpless.
But most of all, she believed in promises.
The butterfly kiss against her ear as sweet nothings were echoed. The security of trusting someone truly, wholly. Of knowing something, like the moon will always come back. The feeling of a promise.
True, some made to her had been broken; many, in fact. The promise of a better day. Of a new start. Of forgiveness and happiness and love. Of beauty and truth and kindness. Of ponies and ferris wheels and fathers. The promise of hope.
Had that stopped her from trusting?
Absolutely not.
You see, it wasn't stuffed animals that talked, or wishes made on shooting stars. It wasn't the idea that the sunrise brings all sort of hopes and maybes with it.
She asked her mother once why the weeping willow was so sad. Her mother said it was because the willow had roots that went deep into the ground, and all it wanted to do was run and jump and play. But it wasn't that belief, either.
Her unwavering faith in people; that was the silliest dream of all.
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