Elisa

Drawing by me.

"The waves roll on untiringly and grind and polish the hardest stone. I must be as untiring as they!"

-Hans Christian Andersen, The Wild Swans

Where are you? A long time ago, we were a family. On those gentle days, we laughed and played, and we went to school and wrote on writing-desks with diamonds on them, and you all wore stars pinned to your shirts, and I had a stool of mirrors and the most beautiful picture book. Most of you have grown up by now, but I have not.

In the forest, I've met a kind woman. She gave me strawberries and blackberries and cherries and raspberries and elderberries because she could see that I was so hungry. She had not seen my brothers, but she had seen eleven swans, as proud as princes. It seemed improbable... but, somehow, I knew.

Even though you are voiceless swans, I can see you.

I will bring back that happiness, no matter what lies on that path. Even if the nettles break my skin, even if knitting makes me lean over and my back aches, even if I can't say anything and no-one will understand and my throat hurts, even if they think I am an evil sorceress, even if the King believes it, too. 

I will not lose.

I want to look into your bright eyes and feel your warm kisses on my face. I want to be wrapped in your kindness and play visitors like before. That is my selfish wish.

I will find my family again.