The Grounded and the Sky-Born
Dear Gal Friend,
Perhaps we’re more different at our cores than we thought. I am ethereal—of the air. Wasn’t that my fate from the beginning? During that ill-fated storm? Would it have been better to let the sea claim them all as its due? In the end, I became a sylph, of color and light, air and grace. The only saltwater I was allowed to keep were my tears.
You have earth in your bones, knotting up your hair, bleeding from your eyes. Diamonds shall be on your fingers, the ore of the mines banded around your neck. All this because of your steadfastness to the ground. But what shall you tell your daughter when she asks of the ways of life, my dear gal friend? Will you know to tell her of the many twists in the road?
Your story is already laid for your feet. How can it be otherwise? The promises will be kept. All his writings treasured. Every memory bound in stone. You’ll have all you ever wanted. As for me, I’ll wander the world over. I was ever of the air, of the tides, of the shifting sea. Do not spend your time on me.