Little Lucinda was leaning on the railing, standing high on her tippy toes, letting her hands hang low. She inhaled the fresh ocean air, and stared far in the distance. "See that? Our new home." Her big brother pointed. Lucinda climbed even higher on her tippy toes, to get a good look of it. It looks just like another island, she thought. Her big brother lifted her up on top of his shoulders, she was now high above all the other people at the viewpoint. She held her arms high up, wondering if she could touch the sky. "Do you see it now?" He asked. "Uh-huh." She answered. It still looks just like another island, she thought. But the beaming look in her brother's eyes made her believe their new home was going to be very different. Different, and better. I will miss the farm, she thought. But she wasn't going to crush her big brother's dreams of their better new world, so she said nothing. She was little, but wise. And even as a small child, she knew not to break her big brother's heart. He wanted her excited - so she was to be excited. He wanted for her to have a better life - so she was going to have a better life. He wanted her away from their father... and he was right to do so. One day, when I'll be older, I'll get to choose my new home, she thought. I must be patient.
And patient, she was.
Lucinda and her big brother made it to the shores of their new home, and it was another island, but one without their father in it. One with opportunities. One with dreams. At first, this new home was smiling at Lucinda. Everywhere she walked, flowers would bloom, people would wave, and roads would clear. But years later, the roads seemed to have gotten more crowded. The flowers were replaced with artificial ones that never died nor bloomed, and the people would look down at Lucinda, telling her with their stern looks and their words, that she didn't belong there. That she should 'go back where she came from.'
This new world, wasn't so new anymore, and it wasn't smiling at them anymore.
Her big brother found a job, and another, and another. But no matter how much he worked, he would always struggle. Years later he died of a stroke at the age of forty five. ONLY forty five. "It was stress", the doctors said. Lucinda went on and fell in love with a native islander. One that didn't consider her an outsider. One that was gentle, and kind. He was nothing like her father. But he had his downfalls, his wandering eye and his addictions. Lucinda was patient and loving. She accepted him as he was.
She then got herself an education and the opportunity to serve her community: She was a school teacher.
Her students loved her. They were also little. Little, but wise.
When little Lucinda became a mother, she felt joy she hadn't had before. And for a while, it was bliss to be in her shoes. Her new life WAS better. But years later, the joy was predictable, and at times, not very joyous. Things were simply...normal. And that was not to her liking. And since she was patient, she said nothing.
At sixty years old, with a husband, two sons, one grandchild, two dogs, one parrot and hundreds of adoring students, Little Lucinda found herself leaning on a railing on the shore. Staring at her previous life. Her older home.
Was this a better home?
Well, it may not have been better, but it's home.
Her husband approached her, surprising her with a bouquet of flowers, for their 40th anniversary. He had overcome his addictions. They have outgrown his infidelities. HE was her home. She suddenly reached her arms up high, wondering if she could touch the sky, and declared to her husband: "Darling, do you see that? That's our new home." She pointed, but not to the old island, but rather to the stars above. "Let's make our golden years count, honey. Let's travel the world, go on adventures, reach for the stars. I've been patient, and lived my life for others. It was beautiful, and I am grateful. But now, now it's time for me."
And she lived happily ever after after.
In April 2020, while experiencing her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling.
Header Art: Daniel Landerman