||The Legend of Taavi ||

|saying goodbye|

Her parents were dead.

The reality, the inevitability, did not strike Taavi until she saw them. Blood-stained bones, ivory-turned-rusted crimson, dusy and bleak. Sun-faded strips of cloth covered them, failing to conceal their twisted, mangled truth.

The floor boards creaked as Taavi's stomach lurched. She stood in the doorway of her childhood home, a home she would never remember. Her parents built this home from nothing. This was a place where life was made; a place where life was taken.

The hut was dark, thin streams of light illuminating the dust that swirled around the room. The foliage had long overgrown throughout the house, over the walls, the ceiling, the floor. A table with chairs, the wood rotted, had been overturned and slashed violently long ago, vines wound tightly around it. Shards of dust-covered glass was strewn across the floor, making faint sounds as a breeze brushed past the strips of curtain that covered the broken window.

Kala stood behind Taavi with a pained look on her face, waiting restlessly for her daughter to react to the horrible scene.

Taavi took the whole room in, ignoring the awful details such as the family portrait that lay shattered on the ground near what use to be her parents. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose, and let it out forcefully through her mouth. It was shaky and distorted, as if she had forgotten how to breathe. She commanded her left leg to move forward, and then her right, and soon she had taken four whole steps into the room before the nausea took over.

She felt something rise in her throat, bubbling to reach the surface, but instead of vomit, it was sobs. Uncontrollable tears shook Taavi's entire body, her stomach heaving as she choked on her own sputtering. Kala kept her distance, and Taavi wanted to thank her – had she not been crying – for allowing Taavi the time and privacy to mourn her biological parents.

Taavi wasn't sure how long she cried; it could have been hours, or perhaps just several minutes, but suddenly the tears stopped, and her entire body, wracked with exhaustion, heaved a great sigh of relief, releasing all previous tension. Kala sat in the doorway, watching her with a tender expression that Taavi couldn't quite decipher. Taavi pushed her tear-soaked hair out of her face and breathed in deeply, finally remembering how to let air into her lungs. The shock, she knew, would take months to recover from, as she learned from her mother's experience with losing her own parents years ago. She knew she would cry herself to sleep for nights to come, but the first initial mourning was done and over with. So, Taavi wiped her tears, blew out a breath, and turned to her mother.

"I was born here." It was a statement, nothing more.

Kala nodded and there was a nostalgic twinkle in her eye. "Now you know."

Taavi pressed her lips into a fine line, trying desperately to keep her bottom lip from wobbling. A flash of blue caught her eye, and she noticed untouched wood and linen in the corner of the room. It was similar to her nest, but looked a bit like James's cot. It was small, for a baby, perhaps. Yellow shapes that resembled birds were printed across the white fabric that covered a small pillow. Then she saw it. The color of the sky captured by a cloth. She reached out her hand into the crib and grasped it with her hand, the feeling softer than anything she had ever felt in her life. A baby blue blanket, her blanket, a fabric her mother would swaddle her with her when she was just a toddler. Suddenly, Taavi remembered the piercing green of her father's eyes, and the warmth of her mother's brown ones.

She clutched the blanket close to her chest, tears spotting the sky blue into navy. She always thought those memories were strange dreams she had while she slept. What a strange dream, she would think when she woke up, who were those hairless creatures? What a strange dream. This blanket was the one connection she had humanity, the last piece of evidence that she was ever a part of their world.

Taavi turned to her mother, blanket still in hand, and noticed her mother's eyes were speckled with tears.

"I just want you to be happy," her mother said quietly, "no matter what you decide."

Realization hit Taavi once more. She had to choose. The choice that had been pending since the day she had first seen the humans, months ago. A choice she thought of every waking moment, a moment with her entire future in the balance, something that would change the course of her entire existence. Would she stay, or would she go? She thought of her mother, holding her close when she was scared as a child, and her mother would stroke her hair, and say a prayer over her. She taught Taavi everything she knew, all the wisdom she had learned through her life. Her mother taught her about the spirits of the jungle, about the power of words, and the strength of actions. She comforted Taavi when she was sad, and praised her for good doings. She was always there for Taavi, never failing, and love never ceasing.

And then Taavi thought of herself in James's embrace. There was something she never knew she had inside of her. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before, the warm glow that made its way from her heart to her cheeks. The fluttery feeling she had felt before was, after a while, replaced with complete serenity. Her heart beat slowed, and her breath became steady when she was around him. Perhaps it was the piercing blue of his eyes, or the simplicity of his smile, or even the dimple in his cheek. Or the way he looked at her during her teachings, the comfort he gave her when she was confused, and the laughter they shared when she finally understood. How committed he was to her success, to her learning. How much he knew about the world, about music, about people, about her, about creation. How he could capture creation in simple strokes of a pencil and splashes of paint. She thought of the outside world, with the humans. They sparked the flare of light into the static of Taavi's life. They brought the meaning, the truth, the knowledge from whatever world they had travelled from. Taavi could feel an unexplainable pull towards them. The kindness, the honesty, the beauty of the outside world, a kind of beauty she had never found in the jungle. The jungle was harsh, and natural, and routine. Though there was splendor in the jungle, nothing was new under the sun. With the humans, there was endless to learn, endless journeys to experience.

"Mother..." Taavi choked, her voice suddenly gone.

"Take your time, Taavi," her mother said gently, and then turned away. "I will wait."

And Taavi was left alone in the quiet and the cold of her childhood home.

An hour later, when Taavi emerged from the hut, still clutching the strip of blue in her hand, Kala had tears streaked down her cheek. The corners of her lips turned down into a somber smile, her eyes shining. Taavi dropped to her knees, and put her arms around her mother, adjusting the blanket around Kala's shoulders.

She pressed her forehead to her mothers and cupped her cheeks in her hands. "No matter where I go, no matter who I become," she said in a trembling voice, "You will always be my mother."