Ranting of a Mad Woman No. 1

I promised creativity, here it is! The questions: What is true? What is fake? What is a story? What is real life?

steampunk-eye1

Autumn’s Child

I see winter turn into spring, and with spring the rains come to wash away the dead that winter has left. Dead: feelings, friendships, loves, dreams, hopes, fears; the spring waters come to wash away winter’s pain. Now I see spring (the birth of something so new and so beautiful) change into summer. Summer, the prime time. Summer, the one thing we hope will never end. Summer, the one thing we wish could go on forever. Summer, the one thing we desire more than anything. We wish upon stars for summer; anything to avoid the coming autumn. The fall.

The fall from what? Glory? Adventure? Perhaps it’s not a fall, but rather a raise. A raise to understanding, a raise to compassion as we wait and do absolutely everything to stop winter from arriving once again.

I was born in the autumn. Oh, and how I know I am a child of autumn. Mid-fall, and I am in the middle. I’ve seen so much, and yet I have seen none of it. My mind is polluted with things that I never lived. But they feel so, so, too, real. I remember people who died centuries before I was born.

I love to read. I read everything I get my hands on, even if I don’t understand, I will read it. I use to think that is why I felt a connection with people that it seems impossible for me to know. I believed my memory to be so big that it made me feel like I have known these makers of history.

I know I am wrong. I did know them. I remember fighting alongside Joan, I remember coming to America in a ship made of wood. I remember Washington crossing the Delaware, that night was so cold I thought I would freeze. I remember the burning of Columbia, I remember the fall of France in 194o, and yes, I remember D-Day and all the blood that covered the beaches. I remember the moon landing, I remember the explosion of the Challenger, I remember seeing new reports about how  Rhonda Cornum was a POW. These people have changed me, yes I changed them too, but they- they showed me bravery, courage, faith, and they showed me hope.

I watched a documentary on the history women in the military a few days ago, yesterday actually. The events they talked about, history- all of it from the early days of America till now- I remembered it all. I remembered with such clarity as if I had seen it just yesterday on the television, well Thursday. I remembered the emotions of the event, the facts, the people, and strangely: I remember how I felt. I was born in the autumn 6 years before the 21st century, and yet, I feel so much older than just 21. I feel like I have lived any lives. I know I have.

I know that I am getting older. I feel it in my bones. For many they age around time, but for me time has changed for everyone and everything. Yet, I remain stuck, a fixed point in time. Time ages around me. I am a traveler. I fix time and make history from the background. I just don’t remember doing it.

I am a lost time traveler. I am stuck. I am something older than time, something more power than death, something so beautiful, something so dangerous. I don’t know what exactly I am; I don’t remember, but if anyone else does, if anyone remembers me, please… please remind me.

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