Many Beautiful Things - 2/3

Penelope. World War 2. 1939

It rained of ashes and blood, of sweat and tears, of war and gunpowder. The reverberations of the street rattled Penelope’s body like a building waiting to topple over the alleyways. Sure, she was hidden away, but deep inside she knew it was bound to become a useless idea.

With her remaining hours – or minutes, or seconds, who could ever know – she began to write on parchments about an idyllic fantasy. How lovely it must be to walk freely and let stars blink against your skin, without fear personified having a gun to your head and a knife to your back. Penelope thought of the asphalt covered in autumn’s shedding, rather than of its darker color, morbid fates scattered, and cities living harmoniously; no prejudice, no avarice, just living. Sunflowers are free to grow, and grass is green on every line of sight – in fact, some citizens could have taken into naming their house plants because they are as sentient as we are.

The whiff of cookies from the local bakery, and roses planted on the windowsill are the only scents flooding the town. Her yellow bike would match well with her favorite baby blue dress – cut above the knee, having a white collar, and light grey buttons all the way below to her chest – even more so with the tranquil ambience of that fantasy.

Then, she would write of everything she would see, everything she would touch, and feel. Words would flow out of her hands, and they will touch the eyes of the reader through multiple copies of the text on paper. Letters would pile up on her front porch, of how every verse and every paragraph resonated with them, and emanated an empathy they did not know could exist on such a thing.

She thought of love – of how her mother was once a distant memory, and now she will be part of it, of how deeply it makes her chest ache that she could not live long enough to find another half. What would they have been like? I imagine they would have the softest of eyes, and lips that are only mine to kiss. I do not mind if they do not have the kindest of hearts, as no one ever really does. They’d have to be lovely enough that I would choose to own a dog with them, or two, or five. How nice it would be if they play a musical instrument, a piano or a violin, perhaps. Maybe even a harp. How nice it could be to fall in love, to be able to live long.

For a moment, her chest is heaving with all the tears of a better state, then she had an idea, and her eyes lit up so much that they could compete with the biggest star. Decided, she will – she has to live again, years away from this chaos, and if she gets to live even just one moment from all of this, she knows that she will be contented.

Falling asleep to her outlandish thoughts, the cold floor suddenly felt like the most lavish of beds anyone could ever conceive or stumble upon. Her mind drifts off to where dreamers live, where souls never die, and the last thing she hears is a muffled ringing in her ears.

Sienna. 2040.

With eyes glistening from tears, Sienna pondered of every star flickering in her line of sight. For once, she did not have to study their approximate heat and color, or the percentage of their chemical composition; she was free to admire them for the grace that they behold.

Grandmere’s own star had burned out, and now she has walked into the white light hallway without an impasse. Even from this distance, she could faintly hear close friends of her family and acquaintances offer their condolences, and how they speak of how it was not an ephemeral life. She had spoken up against more than just multiple political bigotry in her time, as she was also known to always offer help for whomever and whenever, and still have hands like clouds that are always willing to hold those who need holding.

This similar situation is bound to happen again, sooner than later. Her genetics had betrayed her, and she inherited– well, whatever it was. She would have to walk through the same blinding light, and as of right now, she stands in front of the doorway. Sure, modern medicine has had a brilliant advancement for the past decades, but not enough to curate a panacea for what was infiltrating her wellbeing.

With a heavy chest, she breathes deeply, and decides she should think of something else instead. In nostalgia’s name, she recalls all the lectures and mini lessons she would receive, which felt more like nonsense to a 5 year old’s pair of ears, but now? They’ve carved out their own significance in her very being. What were they? Let’s see.

“Honey, I admire that you want to choose this path, to become an astronomer. The first of our family, imagine that! I could speak of this for decades. But remember, darling, to always take some time to rest your eyes and look at some art. This one happens to be my favorite. Even the brightest of minds need to relax.”

“Even Albert Einstein took little naps like I do?”

“Yes, darling,” she said as she gave a warm smile. “Even Albert Einstein takes afternoon naps.”

“He broke your heart, didn’t he? No. He didn’t. Because one day you’ll find someone who writes poems about every second they got to hold your hand, and you would realize that he did not break the spine of your story.”

“People have always been made to say goodbye, love. Friends, lovers, your favorite celebrities, family, everyone. And one day, I’ll have my turn, and so will you. That is just how life works.”

“Grandma? What was it like back then? When you were younger?”

She thought deep and hard of what to say. “It was much more darker and convoluted back then, darling. Grandma had to protest for my people’s rights – and now, it saddens but also gives me hope that it’s still an ongoing path.”

Sienna made a confused face. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll find out in class,” she says as she lays a kiss on her forehead.

“If you had the chance, would you ever go back?”

“Why don’t you go find out? Now, I’ll go and bake your favorite brownies, how does that sound?”

Why don’t you go find out? Why don’t you go find out? This echoed in her head. If she had the chance, she would wish to go back in time, to whenever her grandma was born, so she could understand how she came to have the heart she has – she had. In blissful thoughts, she drifts off to a little nap, and the midnight breeze lulls her into a deep sleep.