I Sing of Aurora

Through the Eyes of a Child

Let me tell you how I met her.

I found her in a forest.

She was crouched down on the ground staring at a trail of ants crawling across an uprooted mushroom.

Her skirt was long and layered trailing in the mud.

The hem was stained.

She didn't seem overly concerned about it.

Her hair was white. Or maybe it was really light blonde. Possibly it was light grey. I liked to entertain the idea that her hair was grey.

I thought about talking to her. Asking if she was alright. What she was doing. But I wasn't that sort of person and she seemed very focused.

I raised my foot to continue through the woods and she looked at me.

Her eyes were blue. Clear blue like water. Not like ocean water, but like glacial water.

At first I thought she was a child, but when she looked at me I realized she was a young woman. Maybe a little younger than me. Or maybe a little older.

She looked at me and I looked at her and I decided that her hair was grey...or maybe white...possibly blonde.

It was grey.

That made sense.

You see she was my age.

I looked closer.

She was old.

I looked even closer.

No, she was definitely young.

Closer still.

She was old...very old...

Centuries old.

I looked as closely as I could and saw that maybe she was younger than I thought. Very young. The youngest child. A brand new child. The newest.

I looked deeper.

Maybe she was old.

Her hair was grey.

It was short, cut sharply at her chin. She had bangs. There was a piece of hair on either side longer than the rest. They were in braids and still almost reached the tops of her shoulders.

Or maybe her hair was long. I remember braids and bangs.

Maybe there weren't braids and bangs.

Yes, her hair was grey and very pretty, but not as pretty as her eyes...as her skin.

Her skin was light.

I mean Light.

Light was her skin.

And flawless.

Her nose was straight and maybe a little too big for her face. Or maybe it was exactly the right size.

It was sharp like her cheekbones.

Her cheekbones were soft but they felt like ice. Like her eyes. Clear like ice, but soft. Like ice wrapped in velvet. Or maybe silk.

Her lips were...

I can't tell you. There are no words.

Pink? Soft?

I wanted to touch them.

Her skin was Light.

Her skin was Light but suddenly the forest grew dark.

It was the middle of the day when I entered the trees. I looked up at the sky visible in splotches between the leaves. It was almost dark.

The girl.

She wasn't a girl she was a woman. She wasn't a woman she was a crone.

No...she was a girl.

The girl was gone.

I imagined the mushroom was suddenly upright, firmly rooted.

The ants were dead.