The Sword and The Shield
It was a chilly, September afternoon, when I drew my first breath of air amidst the sunset-colored leaves of the oak trees. Beautiful and ignorant, I tumbled through the earliest years of my life without fear. Locks of hair like threads of gold, eyes blue like the summer sky, I came to hate every fiber of that beauty. The hatred in my mother's eyes, and the vacancy in my father's, each sign I'd been taught to observe told me one thing: I am alone.
It was a bitter cold, September evening, my 16th birthday, when I first realized that I was still that ignorant, freckle-faced little girl. Mature, that's what they called me, just another Old Soul. But, none of those "keen-eyed" observers seemed to notice the cost. I was fighting everyone's battles, and nobody was fighting mine. My heart eroded like a riverbed, leaving a gaping canyon, no longer flowing with love, in the aftermath. Alone, surrounded by so many porcelain smiles, and still so very far away.
That blonde little girl, her joy and her curiosity, calls out to the heart of an angry teenager who's seen her future, lived it...
"What's wrong? Why are you crying," the little girl asks, with so much empathy that her soft blue eyes glisten with tears.
"I tried so hard but I couldn't protect us, I failed! I can't do this, I can't do anything right..."
The little girl knows this tantrum well, she's seen her mom crumble this way a thousand times. But, that teenager is too busy drowning in her own darkness to hear the little girl's attempts to soothe her.
Rage and Sadness, red and blue.... a sword and shield, seemingly forgotten once they've completed their task. Until a third arrives in their endless void, this prison of shadow and thought.
"I'm sorry it took me so long, but I'm here," the new arrival says this like recalling an oath, as she kneels before the child and the teenager.
"You forgot us," the teen accuses harshly, pushing herself to her feet and waving her hands wildly as she adds, "You walked out on us just like EVERYONE ELSE!"
The littlest cries the most silent tears, too afraid to make a peep for fear of retaliation. The eldest, the newest, she nods her head as she tries her hardest to believe that statement isn't true. But, it is, and she wants to prove that she's going to make it right.
"You're right, I did. I think I've ran from 90% of the things that didn't work out the way I wanted, and I tried to help everyone before I stopped to help us... and I'm sorry for that."
The silence between the three of the is deafening, each soaking in those foreign words of accountability, the guilt of accepting responsibility. The teenager sits down between the other two, keeping a protective arm around the youngest to look at the oldest.
It's easy to see, all sat in a row like cute little ducklings, how the red and the blue have blended into a spectacular purple. The sword and the shield are polished and on display, so every viewer will honor the battles they fought and they many more to come.
We are healing, we are evolving, and we are going to be okay.