Farewell
Jun 2, 2008 17:42:47 GMT -5
Post by Treszka on Jun 2, 2008 17:42:47 GMT -5
*She didn't want to be here. It hurt too much to see her mother's things, to be reminded of what was lost. But she had to come--to remove from the apartment everything that belonged to herself and her father. He wouldn't do it, she knew, and it fell to her to move their stuff out.
She understood why, of course--the memories this place held of mother was too much for him, the history something he couldn't face with the loss so fresh. Perhaps it wasn't fair that Treszka had to do this, but she didn't think so: she knew how much he had loved her mother, how deep the feelings ran. She couldn't completely fathom it, having never been in love or been loved that way. So, here she was, rather than he.
As she willed away all that made up her and her father's life here to the immaterial, she fought hard to keep back the tears that threatened. Halfway through, however, she did cry--she would never again see her mother, never come back to the only home she'd ever known.
Finally, after what felt like too long, she was finished.
Treszka stood in the living room, the apartment feeling strangely empty and bereft.
It wasn't home. Not anymore.
Taking one more look around, she headed for the door, wanting to leave that way as it would be the final time that she did. On the way out, her eye was caught by something behind the couch. Moving nearer, she saw that it was a book. She picked it up and dusted it off as she carried it over to one of the living room's bookcases. On the way, she glanced at the title.
A History of the Hapsburg Empire.
Feeling a sudden, irrational anger, she turned and hurled the volume across the room. As it caromed off the wall and fell with an unceremoneous thump, she felt a twinge of guilt.
That had been stupid. It wasn't as though what lay in that past had deliberately set out to hurt any of her family. Feeling rather sheepish, she retrieved the book, straightening out the pages that had gotten bent in the fall. Pausing to tuck it under her arm, she turned and left the apartment for the last time.*
She understood why, of course--the memories this place held of mother was too much for him, the history something he couldn't face with the loss so fresh. Perhaps it wasn't fair that Treszka had to do this, but she didn't think so: she knew how much he had loved her mother, how deep the feelings ran. She couldn't completely fathom it, having never been in love or been loved that way. So, here she was, rather than he.
As she willed away all that made up her and her father's life here to the immaterial, she fought hard to keep back the tears that threatened. Halfway through, however, she did cry--she would never again see her mother, never come back to the only home she'd ever known.
Finally, after what felt like too long, she was finished.
Treszka stood in the living room, the apartment feeling strangely empty and bereft.
It wasn't home. Not anymore.
Taking one more look around, she headed for the door, wanting to leave that way as it would be the final time that she did. On the way out, her eye was caught by something behind the couch. Moving nearer, she saw that it was a book. She picked it up and dusted it off as she carried it over to one of the living room's bookcases. On the way, she glanced at the title.
A History of the Hapsburg Empire.
Feeling a sudden, irrational anger, she turned and hurled the volume across the room. As it caromed off the wall and fell with an unceremoneous thump, she felt a twinge of guilt.
That had been stupid. It wasn't as though what lay in that past had deliberately set out to hurt any of her family. Feeling rather sheepish, she retrieved the book, straightening out the pages that had gotten bent in the fall. Pausing to tuck it under her arm, she turned and left the apartment for the last time.*