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Happy Downfall of Sauron Day
Happy Downfall of Sauron Day, 2010, or in the Middle-earth in my mind, 1449 S.R. or the 30th anniversary, a red-letter day, which makes it especially ironic that RL has clobbered me with events and obligations that have made commemoration of fictional holidays all but impossible.
But here it is, such as it is. Weird little mega-drabble...
"Thirty Years On"
One year on came as a pain deep in the body.
Two years on, though we welcomed Elanor, the pain was the same.
Ten years on, the pain had left the body and settled on the mind. The thought crawled spider-like that my greatest failure was the inability to let go of my failure. And there was no doubt at all in me that I would stand on that precipice forever.
Twenty years on, the pain struck from memory. It woke me from my daily peace and made me wonder if my peace, indeed, were but a slumber. It surprised me by its nearness, and in that very surprise it taught me how far I walked away from it.
Thirty years on, there is no pain. If anything, I miss it. I wonder where that part of me has gone and if I have lost what I learned from it. And yet I cannot wish it back. A cloud crosses the sun; it is almost nothing.
But here it is, such as it is. Weird little mega-drabble...
"Thirty Years On"
One year on came as a pain deep in the body.
Two years on, though we welcomed Elanor, the pain was the same.
Ten years on, the pain had left the body and settled on the mind. The thought crawled spider-like that my greatest failure was the inability to let go of my failure. And there was no doubt at all in me that I would stand on that precipice forever.
Twenty years on, the pain struck from memory. It woke me from my daily peace and made me wonder if my peace, indeed, were but a slumber. It surprised me by its nearness, and in that very surprise it taught me how far I walked away from it.
Thirty years on, there is no pain. If anything, I miss it. I wonder where that part of me has gone and if I have lost what I learned from it. And yet I cannot wish it back. A cloud crosses the sun; it is almost nothing.