Grown-up

12-11-11

Fiction-ish.
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In an odd way, she had to be thankful for the war. She wouldn't have met Him otherwise.

Well, that was probably inaccurate. They would have met in some different way; she didn't doubt that at all. It was part of what made Him magical in the first place. But she didn't know the story of what would have been, of what if and what then. She only had the story of what had happened and how that story had affected her life.

Because of those stories, those adventures she'd had in meeting Him, she'd grown up seeing the magic in the small things, of afternoon tea, of snow across the lawns, of moonlight and sunlight through the leaves. She knew to look for the magic in her world, hiding as it did behind and between what everyone else called real life, and found it in pure laughter and simple belief and quality time with her brothers and sister. She'd somehow retained the ability to love and to laugh and to trust without fear.

She knew that her experiences as a child had been real, even if her sister denied it now for what everyone called reality, what others called adulthood. Yet she knew it had been truly real because she hadn't lost the joy she'd found in her childhood, nor her ability to believe in the unseen. For it--the joy--was lurking, after all, in the silences and spaces of her world. And, behind the joy, He was there.

He'd been right, you know, when He'd said that she'd find him in her world. She had, of course, and nothing had been the same ever since. She'd learned to expect nothing but good from Him, even if it was disguised in hardship and sorrow, or in the commonplace and the routine. Still, she wanted to see Him again, even for the briefest of moments. To stand where she had stood, to see what she had seen, to do what she had done--she'd trade all those to be with Him again, to be in His presence again.

One day she would be. Until then, however, it was given to her to love and to live and to tell others of Him. Now to go wait for her brothers' train; they would be arriving soon and then the children would be off on another adventure. How she wished she were still their age and could go with them!
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Oh, this should be easy to guess. But this has been in my head as well. Fiction-ish, of course, but still in my head. Now I need to study for Ancient Classics, even if the test is on Tuesday.