Rekindled Flames | ONC 2024

Chapter 1: Barcelona, Spain

It all went up in flames so fast.

Years of written words, of thoughts and feelings I had been scared to admit, of truths and vulnerabilities that made my skin crawl. All of it, up in flames, with a flick of a match. Right in front of me, close enough that the embers reflected in my darkening blue eyes. I had known what was about to take place the second I had discovered my journals stacked and soaked in the firepit, but my muscles had seized. I couldn’t move. Not even as they burned in an inferno threatening to singe my skin, I found it impossible to take a step back. I was stuck, helpless, and heartbroken.

I had nightmarish daydreams about this with the exception of a few differences, of course. I had always imagined I’d go running into the fire or, at the very least, extinguish it somehow to save years of myself once safely embedded in those pages. Every scenario had me in motion, adrenaline pumping and forcing me to ignore the danger before me. I hadn’t pictured standing stiff with my face feeling as though it would melt off, with tears boiling in my waterline, with fists squeezed tight in a silent display of rage and desperation. I hadn’t pictured being so passive, so weak, watching as a teenage girl fizzled out in ashes at my feet. Flecks of my past floated around me, some landing on my bare arms, clinging for dear life with a hope that their more mature version would save them. 

But she wouldn’t. Simply because I hadn’t factored in the person holding the book of matches, a jug of kerosene near her feet. I hadn’t played out this scenario yet. 

I hadn’t ever imagined it would be her.

- - - - -

15 years later…
I picked at my nails while standing in the waiting area of the Barcelona airport, eyes searching frantically for a younger teenager with blonde hair and a purple suitcase. I had to remind myself countless times that I was no longer looking for a brunette mini-me, but rather, a blonde mini-me that has begun to look like Declan more each time I see her. As per Declan’s green light on this decision, our little girl had dyed her beautiful, long hair a shade of honey blonde a little after I had seen her for her birthday at the beginning of April. I had to admit it did look good on her, but I couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed by her decision.

It felt a bit like I was losing her, but having custody for only part of the year caused me to believe every little thing meant I was losing her. The shock that came with seeing her again at the start of the summers or during the holidays or her birthday sucked the breath right out of me. No matter the months in between each visit, something was different each time. There’s always something I had missed, something I only got to experience through pictures or short videos.

That’s the hardest part of this: the absence and the anticipation of what I had missed.

A sharp pain shot up my finger as I pulled at a hangnail. An exasperated sigh left my lips. I wrung out my hands, stuffing them in the pockets of my white sundress. With my eyes still picking through the crowd, I spotted every younger blonde within a visible radius, my stomach twisting into a knot the longer it had been. I had argued with Declan for nearly a month that Millie shouldn’t be flying by herself at only thirteen, but he assured me in the end that she’d be just fine. She had flown many times before. He had walked her to the gates. Millie even verified with me that she knew just where to meet me. 

I swallowed my fear just as the girl I had been looking for appeared from the crowd, scanning the room for me. When she met my eyes, an involuntary smile unfolded onto my lips and my arms opened to welcome her. Seconds later, she bounded into my hold. For the briefest of moments, the stars were aligned, anxieties vanished, and hearts pieced back together.