2024-06-01 - 027- Desert's Heat

To the Child, Mother was Warmth. An endless dark abyss, warm and safe. Before she knew herself, the Child knew Mother, and her Warmth, in turns both soothing and suffocating. Perhaps when she was older, she could more accurately describe her issues with her state of confinement, but for now, she had no words to understand her predicament. It was warm and dark and safe, and sometimes she was fine, and sometimes she wasn't. And it was as simple as that, and it was as complicated as that. Perhaps the Child could agitate from within, looking for the Other that she had no words for. Perhaps she would, later, for whatever meaning "later" held to her. For now, though, the Child settled in to wait, dreaming of the cold.