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Daedalus

March 21, 2013

Tick, tock, my mind is clicking.

Lying on the hard, stone bed, thinking, thinking, can’t sleep. The quiet breaths of my son do not calm me, nothing calms the whirr of my mind. I think sometimes it cannot belong to me, this ever-busy never-resting tick-tock mind.

The girl was here today, that girl, has a gift. She doesn’t see it. She doesn’t see anything. Doesn’t even see the boy. My boy.

He sees everything, but his mind is – I don’t know how it happened in a son of mine – his mind is – slow. Not stupid, I don’t mean that, although of course he may be. It’s hard to be sure, with people who are not myself. But slow like the steady roll of the tide, like the drift of a crocodile. Thoughtful, but unchanging, like a sentient rock. Perhaps I’m wrong about him.

I’m not wrong about her. She is like her father, blunt, thoughtless, but quick. She does not look, or think: she acts. Opposites. She spins and knits, spins and knits, and nobody can keep her in if she’s a mind to go out – or out if she’s a mind to come in, for that matter.

She is the only one who knows how to navigate the labyrinth, but she doesn’t want to.
Boring, she says.

But she likes the birds. She fetches them bread from the kitchen. No bread for the prisoners, but she thinks of it for the birds. We get by.

Tick, tock, here is another thought. Wings.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. March 22, 2013 12:26 pm

    Hi! I was so inspired by your blog that I’ve nominated you for an award.

    http://musingsofanaspiringscribbler.wordpress.com/2013/03/22/its-another-award/

    • March 22, 2013 7:00 pm

      Gosh, thanks – how exciting! 🙂

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