[OLD] Quotable Saturday: A Wish and a Will
The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. -- Eleanor Roosevelt
He was wonderful, her little boy. Wonderful in the little things, the ten fingers and toes. Wonderful in how he would look up at her when he was uncertain. Everything she couldn't have cared about in the Underworld sprang out at her now. Now that the calm alertness of his gaze fully hit home, now that the eyes, the face, looking back at her were anything but a source of pride and security, she cannot be pollyannaish and overly sentimental. She doesn't dare.
But in secret, the way she has always nurtured her hopes, she lets herself set the demon lurking within him aside. In the shadows, where he was conceived, she remembers the idea that his existence was an act of rebellion, a statement of identity all the more true for being coerced. In the in-between times, when her thoughts drift to childhood innocence and wisdom, she recalls that yes, there had been a time when she'd wanted this and thought she could have it. Should.
He was wonderful, her little fellow traveller through the Underworld, not as a dream realized by a Faustian bargain, but in simply being
a true reflection of them in the marrow of his bones.
He was wonderful, her little boy. Wonderful in the little things, the ten fingers and toes. Wonderful in how he would look up at her when he was uncertain. Everything she couldn't have cared about in the Underworld sprang out at her now. Now that the calm alertness of his gaze fully hit home, now that the eyes, the face, looking back at her were anything but a source of pride and security, she cannot be pollyannaish and overly sentimental. She doesn't dare.
But in secret, the way she has always nurtured her hopes, she lets herself set the demon lurking within him aside. In the shadows, where he was conceived, she remembers the idea that his existence was an act of rebellion, a statement of identity all the more true for being coerced. In the in-between times, when her thoughts drift to childhood innocence and wisdom, she recalls that yes, there had been a time when she'd wanted this and thought she could have it. Should.
He was wonderful, her little fellow traveller through the Underworld, not as a dream realized by a Faustian bargain, but in simply being
a true reflection of them in the marrow of his bones.