Virtue y Fortuna

I’ve always been quiet. I have always thought to think before I speak. I think it’s served me well actually, and you were a quiet baby too, like I was. And now you’re often told to have a voice. You’re told this so much by so many people that you can barely get a word in edge ways. And I want you to know that having a voice doesn’t mean you have to say something brave or tell the entire world. You don’t have to speak words. Simply choose. Make a choice and be true to how you feel. that’s your voice, and it is shockingly and rightfully valid. I want you to know that when you choose to use it, the right person will hear you.

I never wanted anything to touch you. When we first let you play outside the garden gates, I was so afraid that you would come to harm, I sat and watched you the entire time.

You became the single element that would save my very life. That fateful night, in the wee small hours.

I was fourteen and you had just turned four. When the world wasn’t listening, when everyone was asleep, I crept out of bed and made my way downstairs. I went to the kitchen draw and took out the largest, sharpest knife and sat with it at the dining table. This was to be my last night. I was afraid. There was no life for me to have, no skin of my own to live in. In my last few hours on Earth I thought hard about the consequences of my intentions. I went down the list of friends and family, and the truth was that most had oppressed me, secured my fate, signed my death warrant with their poisoned perspectives on my kind. I asked myself would it matter that they would miss me? And the answer was; none of them really knew me. But you weren’t old enough to, so if I was to do this, you, Davinia, wouldn’t have had the chance. The chance to understand who I am. You would have grown up under the shadow of a missing piece of the family. All of a sudden I was stopped. How dare I rob you of the chance to grow and learn about the wrongs and rights of this world. The chance to reach your full potential. And just like that, in the early hours of the darkest morning, without you even knowing it, you saved my life.

From then on, I swore to protect you, you were so precious, our treasure, my virtue y fortuna. I see you grow and change and I notice the specific moments when your mind expands to hold more life in it and my sister, I am so proud. Every single day, I will always be proud. I will always be so thankful for you. I will always protect you.

But a hard truth I know now is that protecting you is something that is to be done in different ways at different times. And though until now I have normally stood before you with my trusted sword from the wars I’ve fought, cutting down the tall grass that fills your road ahead, we have come to a place only you can walk through now. You will face challenges and wonders meant only for you. But I am not gone, I am always here, and though I may not be clearing the path before you, I can always hear your voice.

I hear you now. I hear your suffering, I hear your worries. I have them too. That’s the best thing about sisters, we do things together. Always. I see the crows above, the sinister winged heralds of dangers ahead. But there are also blue skies above them, a warm sun beating down on you and firm ground beneath you. Take my sword, sister.

And I will listen to you forever.