Prologue

My mother liked to tell me a story when I was young. It was about brilliant blue skies yielding to the first flush of evening. Of charming, young blossoms shaking off the morning dew to greet the sun. In her eyes I saw looming mountains and raging seas. I saw the simple beauty of frosted leaves. I felt the warm breath of spring rush past my face. I heard the pitter patter of raindrops and felt one slip off the bridge of my nose. Her voice enchanted my senses and my breath was taken from me as I witnessed wondrous things. My heart would fill with longing but always, before I could truly become immersed, her voice would stop, and I would be shaken awake. Always, what greeted my eyes first was the heartbreak and pain on my mother's face. It was only at these moments that I thought I could understand her and the darkness she hid behind her ever smiling lips. My hope was to one day see the things she spoke of and understand them as she did. Then, I was sure I could know her sadness and she would no longer feel alone. Those were my thoughts as we sat together, my childish dream giving me courage even as hers faded away. Now, I only wish I had cherished that time with her more before the end came upon us. The words I love you and goodbye will always rest on my lips, but I will not say them. Not for a long time.