Working Mother's Lament

Writers: Nicole Bonvisuto
Date Posted: 16th November 2014

Characters: Rydelle
Description: Rydelle misses her daughters and worries about them with all the happenings at Dragonsfall.
Location: Amber Hills Hold
Date: month 10, day 21 of Turn 7

The rain drummed down on the Hold and thunder complained of spring's
impending return. Rydelle took advantage of the quiet moment to read the
latest letters from her daughters. Gyla told her about how Onnyth had
risen, and accompanied this with a drawing of the poor gold, who would
apparently lay about 150 eggs. Her sister lived in the Candidate barracks
now, and she hadn't Impressed at the last Hatching. She didn't see her very
much, but Gyla liked the extra space and her sister wasn't there to yell at
her anymore. But, that also meant she couldn't borrow her clothes. Rydelle
snorted, knowing that certainly brought Rynde some relief. Their rooms
turned into a scene from a pub brawl whenever a shirt or, Faranth forbid,
some hair accessory went missing. They were never misplaced, of course.
Gyla had, without a doubt, stolen them. Which, she had to admit, would
happen as often as not. That was just part of being blessed with two girls.
Gyla told her she missed her and couldn't wait until she came home. The
heat was out in the Weyr, so she had taken her mother's quilt and furs off
of her bed. She was sorry. They were very warm. Lira was still staying with
her. She'd let Gyla try klah for the first time yesterday. It was very good!

Faranth help them all.

Rynde's letter was short and sweet: the first Rydelle had received in three
months.

Mom,

Another Hatching. I'm still a Candidate, but most of the others are gone
now. It's so quiet in the barracks, and the power's out, so it's very cold.
Don't worry. We'll be fine.
I hope Lady Benani's getting better. I'll see you when you get back.

Love,
Rynde

The sadness within her daughter's letter felt like a rock in her stomach,
and she wished in these moments her weyrmate was still around to console
their daughter. While she was no stranger to disappointment, all her turns
of experience couldn't exactly replicate the emptiness created when nearly
all of your friends up and left to live the dream you were hoping for.
G'rel would have understood. Lyroth found him on the last Hatching before
G'rel turned 22. He would have understood intimately. And no matter how
often Rydelle had shared that story, she knew it would have more power
coming from him. If only he were here. She missed him terribly. She missed
their daughters.

Rydelle lowered the hides and stared out the window at the rain and the
courtyard of the Hold. Gyla was probably wrapped in three layers of furs
and either glued to a book or drawing. She only hoped that Rynde was busy
with chores or studies instead of moping around the barracks. But then,
today was a restday, wasn't it? Rydelle often forgot; there were no real
restdays for healers of any sort. You took your breaths in the time when
you weren't needed.
She frowned in sympathy for her daughter. Rynde had so much pain and
rejection to face at such a young age, when she was already fighting to
discover herself. Ah, the melodrama of youth. There were not enough marks
in all of Pern to pay her to be fourteen again.

In these moments, she felt a resentment for the knots on her shoulder. They
had a weight that could not be felt by others, and they were heavy in each
birthingday she'd missed, in the fear that her daughter would Impress and
she wouldn't be there to see it. They were heavier with each goldflight
that her fourteen turn-old little girl spent vulnerable and without either
parent to watch over her and in that her daughters might need her comfort
or protection, and she was somewhere else, healing someone else's wounds.
They hid the dread and hope that her daughters, in her absence, had learned
enough life skills from herself and their father to know how to handle
dangers and dragonflights and Threadfall. By Faranth, her eldest was now
walking groundcrews and learning to use a flamethrower. That never became
any easier.

She let out a long sigh and filed the hides into the folder where she
hoarded all the letters from her girls. There were certainly enough in the
thick file to recreate a wherhide or two, and Rydelle had no intention of
purging them anytime soon.

The mindhealer leaned back in her chair and picked up a pen and parchment.
Letters were certainly no substitute for hugs and conversation, but right
now, it was all she had.

Last updated on the November 28th 2014

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Working Mother's Lament