That smirk must be what I call contempt. That feeling of rolling contempt, like it isn't a still thing, but something impossible to stand before.
It was definitely the mother, Serenity. We were the babies.
I actually love babies.
They have the most amazing eyes.
I have been posting this all over lately it seems: They say we arrive trailing clouds of glory. Isn't that a beautiful way to see all of us. Animals and humans and all of us.
We were babies or little girls, people without words yet, when they hurt us most deeply, Serenity. I think this is true. I think it's the wordless stuff that we are afraid to acknowledge because we can't figure out what it is.
But they had no right to do that to us, Serenity.
Which doesn't mean they didn't do it, because we were little and there was no one to stop them and so, we were hurt. Now, we are not little. In fact, we are strong and quite amazing.
So, we never have to believe anything they told us, ever again.
The catch is we have to see what they did to us and accept the stink of it before we can put it away.
roar
And that makes us feel weak; very weak.
So we will just work at our own speed, then.
Cedar
