After the Fire and Fight, #365StrongStories 13

After the Fire & Fight, #365StrongStories by Marisa Goudy | Image by Dirk Vorderstraße She still had the scars on her hands. The sensation in her fingertips would never be what it was. That was alright. She wanted to remember. She still burned with shame for what she’d done to set that fire. Even worse, she mourned that she’d fed the flames and brought the whole place down.

If only they’d understood what she was really trying to do. Yes, it was destructive and foolish and horrifically self-righteous. But she could see the future laid before them. Why was it that no one else was driven mad by the thought that they’d committed to living a life in the shadows?

Yes, she had burned downed the barn. Truly, she had done it because everyone needed a chance to see the moon.

But she’d given up all radical action. She was a mother now, not an arsonist. She had her own home now - but she’d never have a barn. And she had taught her children that it was perfectly alright to interrupt dinner and run to the window if someone spotted a waxing crescent in the wide evening sky.

Trading fire and fight for endurance and patience had been exactly what she needed to do. It was her penance and it was her obligation to the passage of time. And yet, her daughters would always wonder why the moon made their mother smile but she left any room that danced with candle flame.