Little Red's Story // part 14

so the bells bling,
the tolls sing,
the rings linger in memories,
and Little Red brings her damned parcel to Grandma,
and

Grandma turns to Red. Her eyes are fierce, bloodshot and on the border of insane. Red, she says. You know you are the only one that has visited me in the past 15 years.

That's because you're dying grandma. My mom never wanted to see it. She wanted to keep you in her mind as a young woman, running free, bringing her kids into the woods to make sure they never lost their sense of wonder. But you've gone too far… Your age has turned bliss into disease, freedom into anxiety. Your friends are all dead. All you have left is a legacy of miscreants, diabetics and boozers, all of whom have forgotten how to spell your name. Your nine kids have abandoned you. Forgotten that you're still here, living like a bear in the mountains, breathing the fresh air and jumping at anything that doesn't feel right. It's the worst possible outcome you've ever imagined. Life sucks, you're all alone.

Except for my memories. It doesn't matter how you see it. My life is entirely in my head, without thought of how you see it. How can I be alone when my memories speak of inseparable friends, constant companions, and loves that spanned the ages. Your youth means nothing. My age speaks volumes about a longer strata of people. People who didn't care about your concept of individuality. In my day, you didn't have an individual identity. You were a concept. An idea stronger than self. A belief in love without mention of the thing that prohibited it. You weren't a person, but a bee in the hive. And the hive needs honey. And the honey is the love that you simply can't diminish. Love. Love. Love. All you need is
love.

[author: unknown]