Disneyland

THIRTEEN

"All you need if faith, trust, and Pixie Dust." 

— TinkerBell, MOVIE 

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"You really like him, don't you?" The delicate sound spoke with fondness.

As the setting unblurs and set itself into perspective, she could see two figures sitting a few meters away, their essence a familiarity. Looking around her she could see she is sitting at a marbled white rounded table wearing the same dress she wore for prom. What was happening? She couldn't quite place her surrounding leaving her unsure.

"Well, we're eating aren't we?" in an instant she moves her head up to see herself sat in front of a woman with common characteristics to herself . . . her mother. As easily as the nostalgia appears so did the urge to cry.

She looks the same as she had when she had gone off with her father and left her off to fend off on her own and live with Aunt Melanie. She wore the same dress little Felicity compared to the one of a princess and constantly begged to wear it. And her mother always responded, "be patient, one day."

The dress was midnight blue with a sweetheart neckline that fell to the floor in a fluid motion. She always looked as if she was floating around in the dress as she walked. Her hands were embraced in small vintage rings that before were always worn by her great grandmother, to her grandmother, her mother and would reach to Felicity. If you were to look at her ring finger, you could see the spark of the diamond, so simple it seemed as if the ring were wearing her. She liked it that way.

Many thought it was unusual to never show her ring to everyone; that she may have not seemed excited to be marrying Felicity's father, but they couldn't have been more far off. Felicity's mother only ever embraced it to Felicity and her husband. It was only then that she would brag constantly about his love for her. Looking back at her mother's face, Felicity suddenly grew angry for her mother leaving, but as soon as it appeared it subsided.

"Mom," she sighs in relief, a tear slipping from her eye to her cheek. Her hands soon began to shake as she begins to sob. And she knows that if she were to stand up and hug her mother, her trembling knees would not be able to hold her up.

"Felicity," her voice the sound of warm honey and comfort, "it's alright," her smile sympathetic and eyes wrinkled from years of constant happiness, even in bad times she could hold a smile.

After what may have been more that two minutes, she sat up straight and wipes her eyes roughly. She doesn't want to have her mother see her crying, but rather happy like she always seemed to be.

"Now that we've got that out of the way, tell me, you like that boy – what his name? –Jay don't you?" teasingly she asks.

Felicity, could only smile, she was talking with her mother. Her mother.

"I don't know – yes – maybe – it's confusing. But what I do know? Great posterior, wondrous really," she laughs with her mother.

"Thought the same thing when it came to your father. As gross as it may sound to her about your parents; we sure did havefun."

It wasn't gross it – a bit yes – but it was endearing to know they were so in love. She wants that.

As she laughs, she raises binoculars that had been hanging on her seat, "what are you doing?" she asks as her mother points at the two people she had first seen.

"Who are they?"

"Go see for yourself," her mother winks, a small smile gracing her lips once again.