So, I was searching through my plethora of notebooks, looking for a story I’d started writing a few years ago. Instead of the story for which I searched I came across this little bit. I didn’t date it so I have no idea when I wrote it. (nice memory, right?) It’s written from Caityn’s perspective. I thought I’d share, so here ya go.

I was young once. I have not forgotten what it is to dream of the future–to stare down the road of life.

My mind’s eye looks back to the hope and excitement of the days to come. I never thought my life would be difficult or dull. In my young heart I saw the future as an adventure I could go on, and it would always turn out right.

I must admit, though, age and circumstances have not completely robbed me of this feeling: invincibility. Of course, now it is tempered by age and experience.

Still, my life as a child was one of privilege. I was surrounded by people who loved me and cared for my every need. Being a princess is wonderful, but it is also work.

The first part of my life, I was pampered by adoring parents and servants. As I grew I was taught what it meant to be a princess. I had responsibilities to fulfill, and it wasn’t always easy to balance my own desires with the needs of those around me.

Then, when I was thirteen, my parents told me about him. My mother tried to be kind and gentle. I could tell she was impatient with my immature response, but I was thirteen. Can you really blame me? My mother said I would marry Prince Theiandar and had no choice in my betrothal.

I was livid, angry, frightened. So many emotions ripped at my soul, I didn’t know which way to turn or how to respond. It certainly wasn’t dignified. My behavior was not princess-like in any sense, but in this instance, my mother showed me grace.

She never allows unladylike displays in front of anyone. I’d never seen one from her either, but this day she let me act as though my world had fallen apart. Maybe it was because she understood. Maybe it was because she’d been through it all herself. Whatever the case, my mother is a wise queen.

That day, I was sure my life had crumbled before my eyes, my future a dust blowing aimlessly in the wind. She let me have my fit but didn’t leave until she’d brought some of the dust back together. I imagine that conversation in my room to be a sort of collection time, of gathering the shattered bits and making the beginnings of a new clay pot for life. 

I didn’t see adventure in it, but I did see something that wasn’t yet hardened into a finished urn–one that could carry a princess’s ashes. She helped me have a little hope for the future. I still felt invincible, but the tempering had begun.