Dublin. Great as it is, expecting the city to fully understand the amount and weight of trouble that was floating the atmosphere, somehow, doesn't feel like a possibility. Even the brightest corners of the streets has its dark moments.
Sensing the glittering tears on mother's cheek always had a way of making me feel less than just a child. A child of great responsibility. Sensing the glittering tears on mother's cheek always had a way of reminding me of twinkling little Henry, all the way up there. Up in the sky. Surrounding by his followers. The rest of the good ones - the ones allowed a better... existence.
Most days, admittedly, are like this. The big facade - the wall mother puts up, to make people believe that we are relatively happy, despite of the sorrow that's been flying over our heads and everything that we have lost. Little did she know, that I was aware of the truth. Being a child forced to mature too early, you develop an ability to see right through the eyes of the adults. I know what's hidden behind those shady eyes. There's something unusual about that feeling. The insecurity that surrounds you, when your mother - the one who's supposed to be the caring one, is weak and not present in her own presence. Yes. Unusual is the right word. An unusually unkindness. Suddenly, the monsters you're convinced are waiting behind the closed doors, don't seem so scary after all.
Sometimes, we still go to the lake where it all took place. Lake Liffrey. A Life. Ironic, isn't it? Who would've thought a lake with a name containing such positivity could cause something so tragic? Even the brightest corners of the streets has its dark moments. That's where it all happened. I have desperately been trying to recall something of him from that day. But all I can seem to remember is the way his hair was swaying as he was running around, pretending the ship he just made of a piece of the newspaper could fly - fly high, up in the sky. So much energy, for such a little boy. Always up for pranks. At times, it didn't seem like he was ever resting. Not until that point, where he would be.. without ever having the opportunity of waking up again. Unobtrusively, he ran down to the lakeside, wanting to prove to himself that the boat couldn't just fly - it could sail, too! That is what I'm imagining happened. What really did happen, I will never know. Mother was distracted - yelling at me; trying to make me understand, that no matter how high I was climbing up the trees, as long as it's daylight, you cannot catch the stars, lecturing me; do not climb the highest branches - it's too dangerous.
At that point, Henry was already a star..
What am I, in all of this? A boy in a situation that will never be understood. Wondering if the stars and the power of the water is somehow connected.