Monthly Archives: May 2017


Although the reckoning of time is different here on Evohe than on Holder’s homeworld of Earth, he reminds me that there, today is the second seventh-day–Sunday, in their words–of the month they call May.  That is the day, he tells me, most humans once celebrated a day called Mother’s Day.  It is one celebration, like so many others, that the corrupt Earth government known as Homesec have tried to eradicate.  There are those who celebrate it, nonetheless.  But I do not write this to talk of what is called ‘politics.’  I write this to talk of mothers.  I do not understand how those who have a mother can hate one another for differences; can wage wars against one another to try and place one set of differences above another.  When I was bloomed and born, my own mother knew I was different–the shape of my body; the color of my eyes and hair, and, very early, the questions I asked about our world and its life, all set me apart.  But my mother saw beneath the surface of my difference, a part of herself, and of my father–and she loved me, although I often think she must have been afraid for me, and perhaps even a bit afraid of me.

I have my own bloomlings–children–now: Linnah and Laren.  And they are Holder’s, too, and so they, too, are different.  The laws of Earth say they are an abomination.  Those here are more accepting, but they do not know that I see the small flickers of unease or even distaste that sometimes cross their faces when they see the children, who look like neither the people of Earth, nor the children of Evohe.  To Holder and I, that does not matter.  They are soil and stardust woven together from our own joined flesh and shared love, and they are precious beyond measure to us.  Our people ought to show them understanding, for, through Linnah and Laren, the missing pieces of the shared Memories of our world have been woven back together.  But many seem to care only that those memories have returned, and not how.  That does not matter, either.  I will be happy if they show mine and Holder’s bloomlings the care and love all young ones–all life-forms, really–deserve.  Change, and the restoration of that which is broken, takes time.  Each new birth is a chance for life to restore itself.  That is something every mother knows, and I do not think I knew it, myself, until Laren and Linnah were bloomed and born.  There is at least one thing my people share, at their core, with the people of Earth and many other worlds besides: we all have a mother, to bring us into the waking-world, guide us along paths both even and rough, well-lit and darkened, and help steady our feet until we must walk on our own.  If we could each see life through our mothers’ eyes, this world–and indeed, the vast Sea of Stars it floats in–could know peace at last.motherchild

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