Goddess of Winter

 writing-prompt-s

You're a minor goddess who saved a mortal on the brink of death. A few months later, he came back with an army to pledge allegiance to you.

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Their lives are so brief; you could blink and miss one entirely.  Even the eldest are mayflies. 

So, when I noticed, near the end of my Season, one about to expire, one with such a bright life-force, it seemed a shame.  It was such an easy thing to reach out, bring him back, if only for another half-blink of time.  

“Go,” I told him.  “Time is short.  Spend it wisely.”

He left, and I forgot about him, and I slumbered until my Season began anew.

When I awoke, he was back at the same spot.  He had built a pretty little shrine.  And he was not alone this time – a legion of his kind stood ready, wearing thick hides and strong metal, bearing weapons.  I admit to curiosity.  I made manifest, and greeted him.

“My Goddess,” he proclaimed, descending to one knee.  “You spared my life.  I have raised an army in your name.”

“So I see,” I answered.  “You’ve been busy.  And what will you do with your army?”

He lifted his head, but averted his eyes.  “We will go forth across the lands, spreading your Word.”

“And the armor, and the weapons?”

“To smite the unbelievers in your name.”

Yes, of course they would be, but I needed to hear him say it.  Some of my siblings have no such compunction, but I try to be patient.

“Walk with me,” I said.

The fallen leaves, brittle with frost, crunched beneath our feet – his in heavy boots, mine bare.  I led him a little ways from his army, out of earshot, before posing my next question.

“Do you know why I chose the Winter as my domain?”

He seemed bewildered.  “I...I thought that you were born to it...that you created the winter, the cold, to bring an end to…”

“Oh, no,.  The Winter was here long before my birth.”  He still looked confused, so I continued.  “Without one of my family as guardian, the Winter was indeed as you thought.  Harsh, cold, unfeeling...killing.  One of my older sisters brought the Spring, Season of Renewal, long before my time of choice.”

I paused, gazing upon his face.  “We thrive on Life, do you see?”

He didn’t answer.

“My choice of domain, the Winter, surprised my family.  The Season most barren of life?  I was told that I would never thrive, that I would shrivel and come to resemble the cruelty of the cold.  But I was determined that I would, rather, give the Winter a kinder face.”

I stopped walking then.  We had come to an edge, a sheer face of the mountain.  Below us, a valley still clung to a bit of green.

“Look there,” I told him.  “Clinging to life in the face of death.  That’s how I found you.  Such strength, such sheer tenacity.  Struggling, against all hope, to survive.”

Finally, the message reached him.  I saw his face relax, his narrowed eyes open – just a bit.  I extended my hands to him.

“My friend, I have no interest in smiting the unbelievers – their deaths would not strengthen me.  Nor would I ask my most fervent followers to die in my name.  If you wouild spread my Word, then first you must know it.”

I waited.  Waited until he took my hand.  Waited until, finally, he met my eyes, and uttered in a hoarse whisper, “Then what is your Word, my Lady?”

I smiled.  “But I already told you.  My Word is Hope.”

The next few moments were of utmost importance.  His face contorted as one emotion chased another across his features.  Denial, as the thought of months spent in folly arose.  Disappointment, possibly in me for not immediately blessing his mission of conquest.  I watched carefully as shame caused his eyes to drop.  He took a deep breath...and released it.  His next emotion would either be rage, or...

“I will disband my army,” he said..  I’m...sorry to have misunderstood.”  There it was.  Acceptance, and resolve.  

“Oh, don’t do that,” I said.  “An army without a leader is more dangerous than an unbridled Winter – they would follow anyone who gave them a purpose.” Patting his hand, I said, “Rather, give them a better purpose.”

As he pondered this, I whispered, “Your lives are so brief.  Time is short.  Spend it wisely.”

A few moments later, he nodded.  I released his hands, thankful that I had not saved his life only to lose it to a pointless sacrifice.  He turned to go.

As I dissolved my manifest form, I called out, “Oh, and get them some warmer clothing.  Some of them are getting frostbite.”

Alone (not alone)

Arthur and Anita (A2) have gone back to Missouri.  They put their lives on hold for us, for months.  As Anita put it, it feels like they came for Easter just last week.  But they stayed, and helped through Robin's entire illness and recovery cycle, three hospital stays, and finally sat shiva with me after her death.  (No, we're not Jewish, it just ended up being seven days.)  They were going to split up again, leaving Arthur here with me, but I told them that they have to get some balance back into their lives, be with each other.  In about a week, they'll be back for the rest of their things.

I've been alone before; I know how to do it.  The Army sent me to Korea for a whole year.  Various business trips, lasting from one week to four.  I've just never felt alone, not since we first became engaged.  I always knew it was temporary.

And I'm not really alone, even now.  Kyrie is literally only blocks away, walking distance, and I'll see her again on Monday. 

It's that hole-in-the-heart thing, again.  With constant company, it's a little easier to distract myself from it, but hasn't left me. 

I know this will improve.  No, scratch that.  I know that I can do this.  I don't know that it will get any better.

Deep breath.

Wave has passed.

We're all planning to do more together.  Possibly a Branson trip in late August.  The remembering in late September.  Kyrie suggested that she and Rick go with me on a karaoke night (side note: she doesn't really like karaoke), which would have to wait until after the next shift change.  Maybe even accompany A2 on their cruise if a larger cabin opens up. 

You know.  All the things that Robin would have done, if her health permitted.

No, that's not fair.  She did do some of these things, when she felt better in the past.  Still, I have a right to rant and rail against the universe for denying her more of them.  And a little bit against myself, if I'm being honest.

She deserved more.

She's still the glue that holds us all together.  I like to think she'd be happy about that.  I certainly still feel her love all around me, through the kids, and I hope they can feel it from me, too.  That's why I know I can do this.

Hang on, another wave.

This, more than anything, makes me want to believe in something beyond this life. 

Okay, time to stop this, and go to sleep.  

Hope for the future

Originally published August 13, 2007

When we moved to Omaha from St. Peters three years ago, my girl had limited exposure to races other than her own. Not nonexistent, but never before had she felt that she was in a minority group. Her first couple of weeks in the new school were a little scary for her. What I learned from talking (but mostly listening) with her was that it was not the skin color that scared her, but the different way that people behaved around her: confrontational, as if daring her to be racist, all the while seemingly ignorant of just how racist that behavior is in and of itself.

But she adjusted. Last year she introduced us to her first boyfriend. If my little girl has to grow up and start dating, I could not have asked her to make a better choice. He was (and is) interesting, bright, hard-working, respectful, and creative, and the color of dark chocolate.

Unfortunately, like most teenage romances, it didn't last long, and I won't get into blaming anyone for it. I knew it would probably happen, and yes it did break her heart. But I wouldn't have wanted her to miss the experience of her first boyfriend, and I am so glad to have spent some time with him myself. I am encouraged that she will make good life choices.

I have read, from Joseph Campbell, that no one ever leaves behind the religion of their childhood. I believe that the prejudices that our parents imprint upon our young minds are never truly left behind, either, and for much the same reason. I have done my best to leave both -- I would never consider myself Baptist now, nor any brand of Christian, and I have come to hate the close-minded attitudes of the generation that raised me.

But there's a small spot, in the back of my mind, that remains a refuge for all the superstition, all the prejudice, that my parents branded upon me. They sit in their shadowy cage, knowing that I will never open the lock, yet always ready to try the bars just the same. I am gratified, however, to have refused to let it imprint upon my children. It dies with me.

The future is taking a lot longer to get here than it should, but I am confident that it will arrive.


Update September 4, 2010

I like to dust this off and read it once in a while...especially when my daughter enters a new relationship. I still believe that she will make good choices without being reminded every morning, but the protective instinct never goes away. Sometimes it needs to be caged up too.

I also need the reminder that things are getting better. In our current political climate, it's easy to forget.