Where Power Lies

I finished my plate, My last meal in my old home here in the countryside.  

It was a very hard choice for me to go. I have always dreamed of wide open fields that I will live in for the rest of my life. Be with my friends. Live in care-free days. But I can't say no to duties, responsibilities; in honor of the sacrifices of those who gave all they have for this to happen. In honor of those who helped, us, up to this point.

I went to my room, the attic, for the last time. It was a good treasure chest full of memories. Full of comfort. The hole window on the side of my bed is the only light source on the morning, and a little lamp in the table for the night. The bed is just enough for me two years ago. Now, I'm too big for it. I stood in the center of the room where a small carpet is placed. I looked up and saw the ceiling. I noticed that my nose is inches away to touching it. How fast did I grow these past few years? I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I felt a thousand moments rushing through me. This is the place of pausing. After the rush of all things outside, this freezes time and lays down all the things going on. I thought before leaving the whole town, I should first say goodbye to my haven. I decided to sit on my bed. My weight creaked the legs of the bed! Sounds like the side of the bed hit the wooden floor. I looked under the bed, a thing I've not done in a while. There's boxes of toys, my old guitar, and two old shoes. I've pulled them out trying to find some mementos. Nothing, except this key. I grabbed it and used it in my closet's secret compartment. I have been finding this all this time! I opened the compartment. The door screeched while opening. Maybe fifty years kept in the dark, the light shined in the small space.

-----------------------------------

The door was creaky as I stepped outside the old carriage, with vegetables and dairy products in it. My mother was very sorry for not having a good vehicle for my first year in the new school. For my mother is very thrifty, we have to hitch a ride from our neighbor who sells his harvest to the capital.

"Save money as much as possible. Even when you are the count, or the archbishop." she always tells me.

Even though hiring a vehicle will not scratch our funds, I just ride along my mother's schemes. She is very hard working and even my father is not around, she did not made bad ends for the family. My mother is very young. She married at a young age of 13, then gave birth to me at 16. Most mothers will stay at their houses but my mother continued her schooling and when my father left, she asked our family friends to teach her in her free time, while she is working on the family businesses and taking care of me. She came from a small village North of Gibraltar where their family was one of the leading shipwright merchants. Maybe she learned all the thrift techs there. My mother is a beautiful person, a slender built with a tall height. Black hair with waves flowing in her shoulders, like girls from Paris, or Brandenburg. My mom also has a good physique. She is not the fastest runner, but her stamina is extraordinary for a woman of her age. She can run miles at a pace without slowing down. Maybe she's trained to do that. Or she just loves it. I see her run every morning last summer. Maybe she just developed it while always escaping her bodyguards back in her days. She's still young.

Her hood covered her black hair. The robe made her one with the brown woods as we quickly paced in the path. Dried leaves cover the way and the last leaves have left the canopy as the autumn breeze sweeps to our cheeks. Good. The school grounds seem to have some peacefulness, not what someone will expect to the premier school of the country. I expected some wide gardens or cobble stone pathways for carriages. A piece of home. I guess. As my mother, who is in the lead, entered the hall, the sun immediately strikes to the fields and set radiance to the surroundings, making a springtime atmosphere, this time, without the flowers and the birds. Just the trunks of the old maple and oak. What a beautiful sight to start the day.