LET ME LIVE THAT FANTASY


♕

There were those carefree, whimsical moments in each individual’s life where they were completely unburdened by the rest of the world. They’re ignorant, naïve, inexperienced, and oblivious, brought to life by love, lust, desire, and yearning, set upon the ground to bloom, blossom, wither or die – unconcerned with the conflicts resting outside the newfound colors, the bright hues, the strange, shifting shadows. They all followed a primordial design - taking their first breaths, their first blinks, their first stares at the canvas of earth, at the big, wide realm, uncertain of where to go, what to do, and were merely beckoned by the great pulse of instinct. It pervaded through her now too, the little newborn bee, driven by the initial heave of her lungs, the beat of her heart, the flaring of her nostrils – instantly assaulted and ignited by so many sensations all around her. There’s the rush of the sun, warm, pressing along her wet sides, her sodden wings, the gentle murmuring of someone much larger, mother perhaps, the cooing of a beast nearby. All of it should’ve disturbed, alarmed, or set her upright, pushed her towards or away, but she took some careful moments, some scrutinizing instances, to simply wonder, to dream.

Thereafter, there were singular thought patterns, curling, twisting, weaving through her sentiments: sister being the loudest, and she swiveled her head off the dirt, off the sand, controlling each movement in slow, laboring motions, eyes already searching for the one she was destined to be connected to. She could hear her mother’s words, Melita, and Clementine, ears swiveling to process the entire exchange, when she saw her twin’s little orange body, tucked there in the dunes too, and everything was well, everything was fine, everything was an instantaneous relief that she fell flat on the warm surface again.

She liked the ground, but not to remain there, like a lifeless figure – she was ordained to be much more than that, especially when her stomach growled, her legs ached, and her wings felt numb. A foreleg was cast out from beneath her chest where she’d crumpled, unfolded and left out in the whirlwind of time and sand, then the other, brows furrowed indignantly, irritated that she’d yet to figure out where to place these dangling, awkward, gangly things. There was a series of strange gestures and incomprehensible movements, grunts, snorts, a fumbling of irritation from the mouths of babes; but finally she managed to secure her hind legs in the same manner, and maintain a semblance of lifting, rising, standing. She naturally toppled no more than a second later, but by the second, third, and fourth try, she’d adjusted her tactics quite well, and stood there, amidst the gathering of dragons, children, and mothers, like a staunch, proud, stalwart champion, chest thrust out, sides puffing, tiny, dainty feathers unfurling, beginning to dry in the rays of sunlight and beach. Her gaze shifted back and forth from her twin to her dam, pondering over which to try and reach first, because she’d known her sister forever and seemed to barely know the poor woman who’d carried and birthed them. So instead, she merely straightened, bright, gilded eyes focused entirely on the chestnut mare, and her tongue pried, loosened, tried to round out syllables and shapes. “Ma?” She ascertained and crooned, tiny head tilting a fraction, pondering over what the rest of the world had to offer.