power, pt. i

I used to wonder if she realized, every time we celebrated midsummer, just how powerful she was on that day. She was the sun and the summer, warmth and heat, and I was the winter and the moon and the night. On those longest days when we were young, while I languored in the shade, too lethargic to do anything but watch, as she laughed and danced and lived, I'd wonder if she knew she could reach out and break the world right then if she wanted to. And on that shortest night of the year, when she was spent and the moonlight and the cool ocean breeze stirred me back to something resembling life, when she tried not to fall asleep as we watched the stars and the dancing flames, I would ever find myself wondering how long we could wax and wane in opposition to each other like this.

(You're wondering if I could have done the same when the days were short and the nights seemed endless, but the sun scorches, the moon soothes. My power was different. I don't believe she ever saw it, back then.)

The years passed, our dance continued, and eventually she stopped celebrating the solstice. We had other things on our minds, and a little celebration, even of her favorite time of year, seemed frivolous. But even as the sun and the heat sapped me of energy, sometimes I would still feel her tapping into that power, just for a little bit. Perhaps she couldn't help it.

When we finally parted ways, when I grew weary of the blazing sun, I could still feel her when the days stretched on forever. Lost, seeking, and then, finally, on midsummer years hence, I felt the moment when she reached out and broke the world. And--because our dance was always more than the two of us, because this, I think, was always fated--on that day the sun went into eclipse, as the moon for the briefest of moments blocked out the sun's scorching rays.

For that moment I could tap into her power. For that moment I could heal what she had broken--not everything, but enough. And I wondered if she knew, if she was also thinking of all those times she fell asleep leaning against my shoulder.

I don't know if she could have fought, but she didn't. And I would never know if it is because she did not have the will, or she did not have the power.