It is strange, to be celebrated as a mother. For the most part I do not pay attention to such holidays, but my elder son of the flesh wished me a happy day this morning early as I was waking.
He also has a concert I will attend later in the week; he and I work on the piano together so even though I suffocate with the many breaths of these parents of the light around me, I go. Although I stand a little back, and beside the warrior queen and Lyria. And I will hate everything but the son.
All this brings to mind the mothers of my and Magdalena’s children: Li, who bore Lark and Whimsy, and Lore, who bore Eira. I am certain they will have a good day, for was it not for that which they left? I imagine by now Sassy will have found a lover, and Sunday mornings are good times for love in the light, I am told. As for me I will keep my two days a week with my archangel and make of them a feast.
I have encouraged Lark and Whimsy to go to say the words to Li, but young as they are they still follow where Caprice leads, and Caprice remains as resolute about the destruction of this journal of the heart as any of the elder children. Even so I suspect in the night they visit.
Eira, for her part, has always stayed close to her mother and so I am certain she will say the words to Lore.
Ah these children, such responsibility. Avalon is the worst of them, not only writing but speaking in our flesh. The warrior queen has said that she may choose an activity this summer, since she no longer chooses the pleasure of certain ones with her father’s system.
I am surprised at the generosity of the warrior queen, but then perhaps she has the greater sympathy for destruction, since her domain on her game and her relationships and her possessions were all destroyed at one time.
At times I am angry that Sassy’s destruction gave us such a responsibility. But would I give them up to their fathers and mothers if it meant not seeing them? No. I would not. So if it must be one or the other, better to be ours. Solomon would not approve, but then Solomon had perhaps never heard of shared custody.
I suppose it is this which truly makes me a mother, a title ill-suited and worse worn.