Act One: Introductions

Act One:  Introductions

Alee

Glorious, brilliant light sweeps through me,

caresses, infused with sweet scented air.

Every part of me feels Awake!  Breathing

fully.  Eyes, skin, bathed in deep, deep warmth,

life bestowing Sunshine!

My mind dances, so free

and

Look!  I find myself dancing, moved onto,

over the floor, sunshine warmth spinning me

round and round, caught up in buoyant sound

emitted from my heart, throat, mouth, emanated

through my rhythmic feet, upward into bliss of

music all I know to feel, wrapped in gaily colored

velvet ribbons of NOW.  I am dance, breath,

omg ecstasy, me, Alee, free

No need or desire to remind this bliss filled

consciousness of all that suffered, unproductive,

unconscionable wasted time -- literal years

bound, unallowed by my own desperate weakness

to be that lively lass we all knew as me, Alee, drowned

under some ill-fated mystery, holding me down,

without even the energy to hope for salvation.

Retreated into dream fantasies, ambient lullabies

my uneasy mind voices inside to keep me company,

a self-protective buffer against unending pain,

the despair of utter dependence on the kindness of

those near who have held me dear.

No, I've better thoughts to expend this surging

energy on, happy songs to carry me into steps,

whirls, untensed muscles that let me express in a

flow of merriment, FUN!

Look at me, awhirl in the thrill of what seems

unceasing energy where so very recently I had

none.  Romping throughout my room and beyond,

smiling into each window as if to renew a beloved

friendship with brilliant Mother Sun, Her Majesty.

Overwhelmed with blessing, feeling ultimately

alive, ready for anything to manifest after this

miracle has been granted.  I am aglow with

happiness, knowing this reprieve is real, not a cruel

joke, some fleeting wish fulfillment dream.  This new

renascence I have woken to is meant to last. I feel

that glorious resurgence urging me to let loose in

enthusiastic dance

Jamee

Alee, Alee, what do I see!  You are dancing,

my old Alee, little sister always in motion,

a vision of grace.  What miracle has brought

you back to me?  Here I am, returned home

from my shift at the factory to tend to my

precious invalid, as every day since your

spirit was compromised by a mysterious disease.

Yet, look!  Amazement!  You seem to no longer

need my ministrations, all alive and a'glee,

ready for any eventuality -- or is this just a

cruel tease?  Will you again be struck down

mostly silently, bereft of the energy to speak,

to sing as our Alee, had for so long lifted us?  

Oh, my so very dear sister, nearly a twin, my 

closest friend, confidante, companion, I now very 

greatly want to believe we have regained your full 

brilliant ebullience to delight our mutual lives as in 

our past, before these years of absence. It does feel 

like at least a lifetime, grieving your ebbing energy, 

light bit by bit fading from your sparkling eyes. This 

wild woman=-child, wise beyond her experience, gentle, 

kind, yet always ready to fight for what you feel needs

fighting for, how I admired your strength and

inspiring elation.  I have done my best to care for

you, the physical chores you could no longer manage.

Yet, I have been so disheartened, seeing you depleted,

devastated, weakness to take the place of your fierce

independence, knowing you must hate to be waited

on at others' convenience rather than doing what,

when, how you please.  But let us not dwell in those

miseries.  Look!  You are dancing, pirouetting over

to hug me, pull me into your dance, as when we were

younger, unaware of trials to come.  We can again,

as of old, prepare our meal, eat together.  Yes, after

you attend to shower and clean clothing, at last on

your own power. Meanwhile, I will gladly inform

the family of this wondrous homecoming.  Are you

recovered enough for a celebration?  Do you have

the information, how this miracle occurred? Please,

tell me now all that you've wanted to say all those

endless days when speech was too much to long

endure.  I am so incredibly happy, happy is not 

nearly a big enough word. I know I need not enclose

my jubilance in verbal expression, when as ever

you can reach in, feel with me. I do exclaim, honor 

such wonderful relief, the difference between our

years of suffering, unrelenting pain of separation

from who we were.  We can push those terrible days

aside, happy to be here and now with effervescent

Alee once more.

Paul

Jamee, Jamee.  I read your group text, and got

myself here as fast as I could run.  Tell me,

what do you mean by "Alee has returned to us"?

Oh, Alee, I see.  Here you are, awake, alive

as ever you were before.  This is, I am,

overwhelmed with joy!  Such a happy surprise,

I don't know what to say.  Let me hug you both

to me, to feel our renewed connection.

Jamee and I have so missed our enchanting Alee.

We were bereaved to see you stay so ill, devoid

of your special elated energy, dancing, singing,

laughing infectious happiness, your

dramatic angers over injustices, sadness of loss

or frustration.  We badly missed all we feared.  

forever gone, wan, near motionless shell, unable

to lift up from your bed, to speak above a

limited whisper, too obviously difficult to

continue beyond simple requests, efforts at

fond blessing.  But why am I dwelling on at last

past miseries, since we are re-united?  We

must celebrate.  I know the rest of the family

will soon show, once they have seen Jamee's

message.  Let's whip up a feast! Gather the

drums and flutes to share around, play, dance,

eat, to honor our awakened sister, the great

good fortune of her recovery.  Jamee, my true

forever love, a kiss to seal this brilliant moment,

we hug together to share, enhance  ascendant

bliss, dispel those wretched years when we hugged

together to share and expel our despair.  But,

yes, let's raid the pantry to get back our

culinary magic, we three so in sync, catalysts

to each of our creative instincts.  I feel alive

in ways I haven't over that agonizing time.

This home of my heart, far different from the

comfortless place where I still stop to care for

my disabled, aging parents; my true family,

these I have loved, depended upon, for most

of my life, despite not being blood related,

finally once more feels complete, as we should

be.  I imagine my sacred duty, portrayed in my

position as Barro Mayor, will benefit from this

easier mind..  A calm, inviting energy, restored,

though I know our uplifted state of grace is not

about me; I am enhanced by my role as witness,

beneficiary.  Still, I want you two, my closest

friends, Jamee my lifelong lover, Alee my

chosen sister, to understand how enormously

I am affected 

 

Sophia

My dear, darling Alegra -- look at you!

Prancing about the room like a conduit of

bubbling grace, just as you had been long

years past -- again.  I know you can see how

happy we are to enjoy your effervescence,

lifting us far from that metaphoric storm

season, buffeted by despair.  I never

anticipated  this particular good fortune

to attend this family struggling against

a detested curse. We who have loved you

through such hapless extremity, with no

reason to believe you could be cured, prepared

for a much more bitter eventuality --

now removed from our imminent fear.  Instead

of tragedy we have been blessed with this

wonderful turn of events. I know, little bird,

we will all, you the most I'm sure, be glad 

to hear you sing aloud, enthrall us with your

evocative stories, soaring lyrics, you and Jay,

our musical playwrights, had before always on

offer.  Again to be regaled by our laughing,

dancing, ever in motion friend who for all

those years before her fall would effortlessly

brighten our lives. Such a joyous homecoming

to this unofficial family of my heart and

long devotion, happily planning their party,

now given occasion requiring celebration.

Gladly done with today's annoying School

meeting, where the faculty pour out their

grievances in the name of programmatic

improvement, as I struggle to appear

professional, I was delighted, intrigued to

see Jamee's text.  Immediately, I rang Marta,

as always ensconced in an experiment not

to be messed with. We agreed to meet here

when she can leave, no reason for me to

wait for her to become acquainted with

the full tale of the occasion. Jamee, Paul,

I know you must be over the Moon, stars

and planets to have this vivacious Alee,

merry, spry, no longer so only in fond

memory.  I see you three are devising

a celebratory feast.  Of course you are!

No doubt Bobby, Cas, and their crew

will join us shortly to share in creating

a happy, exuberant, celebration, we've

found no reason to enjoy for far too many 

less inspired nights. A magical Spring

evening awaits.  I feel peace, within 

anticipatory excitement, a welcome home.

All those long, now event filled, years ago,

I left my City life, the place I was

born and raised, to discover, move alone,

fully convinced of my academic and

teaching abilities, having grown up in an

atmosphere of schooling, among Upper

learned society, daughter of their

children's tutors. I had then no inkling

I would find not only the engaging work

I had hoped for, but better, a welcoming,

loving smart creative family, at least as

engaging.  Meeting Marta as a colleague

at the School, unexpected fast and solid

friends, then committed lovers, a transforming

boon, an unremembered dream come true.

Then, to be introduced, pulled in so easily,

become an integral part of this group through

their eldest sister, another unexpected blessing.

Over time, included in the telling of their

memories, I have learned the siblings' reverence

for their parents, Julia and Eli, for whom

two of their grandchildren were named. I

was privileged in the beginning, for six years,

to be part of their extended family as well,

before the tragedy of their untimely demise.

I too grieved then, and joined the alloyed

celebration when little Eli appeared.

And now, here I am for what I dare to describe

as a sacred re-dedication to our integral

core.  I see Bobby entering, next to the

open door, ready to be hugged in by me

so he can get the music going.  Jamee

has left drums and flutes arrayed on one

of the comfy chairs, to be taken up and

played.  Bobby chooses a drum to thump,

tap, beat upon with his practiced hands.

I choose an old wooden flute, carved an 

age ago by Eli, to expand his musical 

enthusiasm through his kids. We sway to 

the rhythm.  The others dance throughout 

the room, to and from the kitchen, as they 

prepare our future feast.  It is truly wonderful, 

to be among these people, home to share this 

joyful night of resurrection.

Jay

Hey, Alee.  Finally decided to give up on

your marathon of  utter laziness, I see.

Back on your lumbering feet, attempting

to dance? Can't take that performance

to the stage.  You know we've been waiting

for you to wake up, help me create our plays. 

develop our parts, not need to be muddling 

through with the scripts we've got.  

Those old disabled folks you brought meals to 

still remember you, though they haven't been 

neglected. Our flock has you covered, doing 

the work you left that others not suffer from 

your absence, leaving you free to suffer your

illness without guilt.  Gus has added new

cook staff, since you abandoned the

expectations we had of your abilities.

Your places taken by we who had the

training of your example, thus made too busy

to miss you more than occasionally, when

we knew how you would have enhanced

the situation.  Of course you know I never

forget all those crazy scenes, merry pranks,

disasters that kept us laughing when recalled.

We were what, five years old, when we 

decided to become a team, you, me, Paul,

Jamee, nine and six respectively when we

all got together.  Tower neighbors, school

acquaintances, drawn by mutual affection, 

shared passions, appreciation of each other's 

intelligence, basic trust, but especially our 

combination's outrageous fun.  Come, let's 

seal this renascence with a big, reunited kiss,

surreptitious smiles, happy flirtatiousness.

I have so missed all those idyllic whiles,

passion plays, if you will.  Just us two, or

expanded into our flock of intimates.

Let me steal you away from your kitchen

engagement with Paul and Jamee.

Certainly they can enjoy their dinner

preparations a 'deux.  Dance with me to

Bobby's inviting rhythms, Sophia's 

elegant melodies.  We are well acquainted 

with this groove, these feelings that 

reverberate through sensual memory.  

Days, months, years of lonely misery, I 

would move myself to visit you, though 

only briefly, when you had no energy for 

attention.  Let that horrid interval be relegated 

to the realm of experiences too unwanted to

dwell on.  From the corner of my half-closed

eye, I notice Marta has at last arrived,home f

rom her diligent plant studies. She shakes off 

her professional personality, to integrate with 

ongoing family revelry. We pull her into our 

dance, while the boys take a break from their 

kitchen magicianhood for a bit to join in.

Bobby, let me release you, send out the beat 

while you express more fully, stomping feet, 

reaching arms to encircle affectionately the 

dancing present of this family elation.  I 

assume those remaining of your crew 

where you left them, will fill out our 

complement soon. Who needs inebriates 

when real happiness requires only this 

exuberant connection to boost the ambient 

vibe.  That said, I brought wine.  When we 

get to an opportune break, we can pause the 

music, pass around mugs to fill for a formal 

toast, ritual recognition to the gods, invitation 

to party at our side, imbibe their blessing, 

infuse our vibrancy through our shared air, 

our again united home.  Listen to me flow 

effortlessly into delighted poetry, while Alee 

counterpoints, fallen into our old game.  

Alee and Jay together again in full force.  

Watch out world.  Hear us roar.  See us 

tumble into each other, laughing, hugging, 

catching breath, jumping up from the floor, 

aware of sumptuous smells from the kitchen.  

Must soon be time to eat.  And, yes, Bobby has

surreptitiously skipped out, and now returns

with the rest.  Cas and Bonnie, their kids,

Diana and Julia;  Camille, her and Bobby's

little Danny and Eli -- the gang's all here.

Our party has truly started.  Hey, Alee,

see how enormously you are loved.

Marta

My work is important.  Of course I love

my family, reliable support and humanizer.

When we were so much younger, Mom,

Dad, and rambunctious kids, our home felt

bursting with love, tangled up in daily

work, play, serious, silly, we learned to

be independent people, interdependent

for celebration, solace, help as needed,

place to belong.  Mother, Julia, wise,

strong pioneer, eschewed fear or hesitation,

Always sure to exercise intense preparation.

"Pay attention so you don't have to pay with

unnecessary pain," she liked to say, admonish.

Stern words were the only punishment we

expected her to mete, yet certainly enough to

stop us from acting with poor judgement.

Papa Eli, her lifelong partner, foil, the first

word he brings to mind is emotional, over the

top feelings expressed without censor. He

would lovingly carve his wooden flutes,

goatskin covered wooden drums, to distribute

to everyone, sometimes for exchange of value,

usually just to allow for more music to flow.

He liked to orchestrate our repertoire of highs

and lows, to create an engaging atmosphere,

nightly parties for sharing tunes, dance,

exuberance, including whoever would join in,

family and friends. How could we ever forget

his sumptuous meals, his magic with mundane

ingredients, to far greater than sustain us

bodily, rather fill every day with exquisite

flavors to savor, familial memories to honor.

We sisters and brothers, I among us, blessed to

be raised with this legacy of good fun, abiding

love, along with serious endeavors, callings,

responsibilities, always aware that we are cared

for, have people close enough to take in the care

we have to share.  Precious work, dear sustaining

cherishing, what more could I ask to fulfill me?

This special night we are overjoyed to find our

darling little sister returned to us, glorious reprieve

from years of unbearable bereavement. Far from

fading out completely as we had helplessly feared,

somehow, mysterious as her unexpected illness when

it appeared, she has been freed, restored. Surely,

a marvelous surprise to celebrate, an ebullient

awakening to a future in tune with our deepest

desire.  Late as I tend to come to our parties, caught

up in professional chores, still they all understand

that I am very much part of the collective spirit we

call home. My physical presence will always show 

just as soon as I can leave my laboratory without 

jeopardizing meticulous execution, complete attention 

to each next step as my goal, my vision, manifests. 

I know it is overly ambitious, yet I feel compelled 

to ever more efficiently feed, clothe, dispel disease, 

ease maladies for my surrounding community, 

beyond my circle of family, that we may all be well, 

able to default to joy. I know Sophia, my beautiful 

partner and co-conspiratory muse understands 

with full sympathy.  Here she is, grabbing

my hands, swooping in for a lingering kiss.   

 

 

Bobby

Surrounded by bequeathed names, their

associations.  Here, my life, my loved, those

who compose my reflections, my affections,

my greater good to belong among.  Alee,

my little sister (my birth midway between

her, our youngest and our oldest, Marta, with

buffering brothers on either side), named

herself, switched from our parents' decision,

Alegra, to Alee when she figured out how to use

words for communication. This encouraged her 

closest brother and friend, James, to take on Jamee, 

another game within their pair bond. I was named 

for my then recently departed Uncle Bobby, who, 

of course I never knew.  He was Mom's much older

brother who had stayed in this apt, next door to then

young Julia, their parents, and disabled brother, Sam,

to help care for them while keeping a separate space.  

For some years he used the larger bedroom with 

attached bath for fermentation of fruit from his father's

garden to produce wine for sale and parties, and his 

own consumption. When my Mom and Dad got serious, 

they moved into one of his spare rooms, she continuing 

her aid to Dan and Liz, while accepting more 

responsibility for Liz's experiments, to enhance 

the healing possibilities of her family's  Garden's herbs. 

In short time, Julia and Eli decided to settle in, get 

ready to begin their next generation of family within

a kin environment.  I hear that elder Bobby was kind, 

thoughtful, fun, if a bit of an inebriate. Marta, eldest 

of our sibling crew, knew him best, as Cas was still a 

toddler when he passed. She admits vague memories, 

that he was an Uncle she felt safe around when left 

under his supervision, when Mom and Dad were out 

pursuing their endeavors.  I guess Bobby named me, 

but then I named my older sibs, with my baby 

pronunciations. Martina has since been forever Marta, 

Lucas, Cas. On to the next generation, Camille and I 

continued the tradition, giving our sons, each in turn, 

the names of their great-grappa, Dan, when he died 

while his next descendant gestated, and but three 

years later, Eli was named for my father, taken, an 

innocent bystander, in a grievous crime, or accident 

since my parents were not the intended victims. The boys,

named for remembrance after, I guess, strangely getting

born so close to the deaths of their older kin.  Camille

enthusiastically agreed to this, a small gift she could

offer in those months of grief. Then, there's little Julia,

Cas and Bonnie's younger daughter, born over a year

later, named to honor our mother, who was to us beloved,

wise, inspiring, always available as we each required,

despite long hours of dedication to her scientific inquiries.

Thus her family has become no stranger to tragedy. I was

but 21 when that cursed bomb blew up the core security

we thought we had, as we were learning to become the

adult people ready to fulfill our dreams.  Just a bunch of 

stupid teens, lacking obviously needed supervision, who 

figured out how to use the School chem lab equipment 

obliviate their schoolyard enemies. This violently hostile 

youthful rivalry left five innocent bystanders and their 

circles of reverberation destroyed, as well as their own lives, 

relegated to jail for the duration, since none would dare to 

try to get them freed.  Enraged neighbors had clamored to 

tear them apart then and there. Our Mayor at that time, 

trusted friend among the community, instead insisted that 

extension of violence would not promote healing of our

devastation.  We needed, rather, to grieve together, with the 

knowledge that the miscreants who caused this misery would 

never again be free. Incarceration in our underground, 

beneath the Towers, cages, long since built in service to the  

City to keep their most vicious, therefore unwanted cityzens, 

far from their society, soundly punished for their misdeeds

and as warning. Miscreants would suffer brutal loneliness, 

aging in darkness, void of activity or stimulation, most 

certainly a more dire punishment than the peace of death. 

Alee, our youngest, was a mere 16 that year, similar in age 

to the perpetrators.  She must have seen them in School, 

thought of them as fellow students. Mere months since her 

birthday, she had started working part time for Gus at the 

Diner, as one of his short order cooks. She was there at the 

time our world exploded outside.  Later, when life again 

seemed to have become more normalized, she flew into a 

much less home-oriented existence, ever greater community 

engagement.  A dynamo, her days and nights became filled 

with her theater obsessed friends, participating in their whirl

of creative projects to enhance the general ambiance, give

assistance to those they could see were in need, extend their

youthful energies to make their world more easy and fun for

everyone, a lively flock of a feather, together greater, happier, 

than on their own.  We rarely saw her, except of course for 

Jamee,Paul, Jay, her closest confidantes, with whom she played,

made plans, shared explorations every day.  We never thought

we would need to be concerned about her well-being with that

always her reliable support. Cas, Bonnie, Camille, the kids, and I, 

since no longer caring for Dan, and Liz, now gone, have developed 

our own familial crew, sharing chores (though mostly Cas attends 

to our household, meals, cleaning, the children when the rest of us 

have other responsibilities), and support. Camille and I eventually 

moved into the master bedroom to use both for sleep and 

creating art, different from Uncle Bobby's creative pursuits. All of 

us recovered from that infamous day, each finding our ways to 

move forward, to discover who we were, what we could do. And 

then, in an unexpected instant, our Alee was gone from her

previous pursuits.  She was suddenly no longer our dynamic 

whirlwind, showering brilliant grace in dance, spontaneous song, 

spinning glorious fantasies, swirling through daily plans, work, 

companions. Rather, she had become a wan, barely living presence, 

covered in blankets, unable to rise for simple self-care. Yet tonight,

tonight we have her back, fully charged, ready to take on this

new start, relight our hearts with her effortless effulgence, a 

shining future we can feel allowed to hope for, again.  Alee

as we had known her, lifts us all.  I suspect Camille will not miss

her usual early April family birthday celebration, given over to a 

truly worthy cause.

Cas

The serious one, the dutiful son, following, honoring my 

father's legacy, my mom's wise counsel, my elder sister's

sense of responsibility.  Focused, not like Marta with

her scientific endeavors to improve community well-being,

focused on service to family, and by ripple effect, our

greater world.  It truly pleases, fulfills me to take on these

daily ministrations. There is no better life I might aspire to.

All the precedent preparations to enjoy our meals, seeing

that our home is clean, pleasantly appointed, providing

aid in any form, for any issue that presents, giving our

kids the all attention they desire, a source of comfort 

my people can depend upon, no matter why needed, 

these acts of loving grace are me. Back in my later teens, 

while our parents were still there to take care of us, I 

moved next door to more readily help our grandparents 

with chores and health requirements as their aging 

infirmities made them less able to sufficiently do for 

themselves. I began then, as well, to work a shift at the 

Factory, to pay for their comforting treats, and to invest 

in exercise for greater strength as I grew.  My dear friend

for many years, though Marta's age, Bonnie from

upstairs, who I also knew from her volunteering at

Mom's lab for the experience to feed her endearing

curiosity, had earned a place at City's Uni-Med. Thus,

disappeared from my company for those years she 

spent away for schooling across the River.  While 

attending Uni it was forbidden to maintain 

communication with Barro friends or family.  Her 

basic high intelligence, intense focus, grit, and natural 

empathy had impressed the City representatives 

teaching in our School. They knew with appropriate 

training she could be an amazing medical professional 

at the Clinic, City sponsors had long since arranged to

build, way back in Barro history, when they had plans 

to grow soldiers from later generations of those they had 

evicted. I like to put the pieces together like puzzles, 

understand the past, its secrets and ripples, how we 

evolved to now. Those people then, in their struggles 

to continue, shaped us to become as we are today. 

Anyway, Bonnie did eventually return, to serve an 

internship at the Clinic before granted full Med status, 

be given the position she had long worked to attain. 

Meanwhile, once we were reunited, we decided that she 

move in to one of the extra rooms and help with Grappa 

and Gramma's care, here, rather than deal with the pain 

of the home she was raised in, where her younger brothers 

remained. Around that time, Bobby and Camille joined 

our next door extension to this enlarging family, being 

serious enough a couple to want the independence of 

more private space, as Bobby shared the bedroom I

had abandoned with Jamee.  Grappa Dan, ever sicker, 

passed on.  He had already bequeathed his Garden, 

and fermentation operation, to his oldest daughter, 

our Aunt Sylvia, and her family. Then, after mere 

months, Gramma Liz joined her lost partner.  Bobby 

and Camille moved into what had been their larger 

room for both bed and studio. When their first son 

was born not very long after his great-grandparents' 

passing, they named him Dan. Once no longer an 

infant, he was given his parents' former room, 

later to share with his younger brother.  Little Danny, 

Eli, my and Bonnie's Diana and Julia, bit by bit 

increased our crew. Ever abiding, I provide what 

comfort, sustenance, gentle atmosphere of

surrounding care I can.  In fact I am aware that we

all take care of each other in our unique ways.

As a teen I had lopped off my long dark braid

for greater efficiency, inspired by Marta's

practical example. These days I am attired in

the beautiful flowing clothing Camille has

created, decorated to look like a peaceful

starry night, equipped with cinches as required 

for convenience when doing chores. This well 

integrated extended family, my happy place.

Today we have been given an infinite blessing,

our sister Alee's miraculous restoration.  Not an

occasion for solace to sorrow, but for grand

celebration, enjoying the party.

Camille

They say I'm always in motion. So much to do.

I did institute my art program at the School.

Not only classes, shows, all those preparatory

skills, making paints, dyes, quills, building an

artists' community.  Now that the kids are old

enough, I enjoy helping them discover what

engages them creatively, develop their individual

styles. Experiments with their hair, clothing, they 

have seen me devise, inspire their innovations.  

We never differentiate between Cas and Bonnie's, 

mine and Bobby's.  We've become one family, along

with the rest next door.  For all that dismal era,

devastated, missing Alee's uplifting charm, we kept 

each other comforted, wrapped in shared

consolation, and, honestly, over time, it was all

just another part of the norm. Cas led daily

meditations to keep us calm when emotions

overpoured.  Busy people here, it became fairly 

easy to let days, years fall into their component 

moments of activity, entertainment, rest.  Of 

course some occasions break out from routine, 

hold our attention, for good or other emergent 

meaning.  Today's exceptional cause for 

celebration, to see Alee, wonderfully vibrant, 

dance through the room, what could be more 

uplifting?  I see in my mental creative center a 

cloak I want to make, decorate in remembrance 

of this extraordinarily blessed event.

Bonnie

My family balances me, gives safe haven, 

succor, a sacred space where I belong when

not at work.  I have always been diligent.

I was picked for special training across the

River at the City Uni for people they choose

to work in the Barro as medical personnel. My

teachers saw in my qualities, smarts, dedication

to learning the skills of medicine, worthy of 

special consideration, of notice.  The Uppers

call us pearls, Barros who rise above our

general population.  Once they realized they

had no need of us as soldiers, they pivoted to

seek us out as valuable assets to encourage,

useful products to employ for their projects.

They did make certain that I know they expect,

I owe, superb performance of the skills thus

given. As a result of this responsibility, I enjoy

little leisure for domestic chores.  Those are not

what I come home for, nor am I thought shirking

for not contributing more in that regard. Cas acts

as domestic god for our crew. He seems so easily

to keep our domicile all that we each require,

gracefully flowing, showing effortless compassion,

knowing how to quell anxieties with gentle

reminders of how well we are loved.  When we

were first together as a couple, I helped Cas care

for his Grappa Dan and Gramma Liz.  We lived as

this four for a while until Bobby and Camille

joined in. A few months after Grappa passed on, 

their Danny was born. Released from what had 

become chronic sickness, he left Liz still in our care, 

but for not very long.  At least she was gone years 

before Eli and Julia's horrid demise.  She never had 

to suffer that dark passage. Subsequent children 

arrived, grew, asked more of our time, attention, 

emotions. We developed routines around our 

various areas of expertise, never lacking in 

interaction with our siblings and such next door.

When Alee was suddenly disabled, I was called

to cure her. Despite my years of training, experience,

I had no idea how to proceed.  I did as sense suggested,

to no avail.  My desperate ministrations always failed

to provide relief.  I begin to see this was no mere bodily

malady.  This illness may have arisen for a purpose

beyond our common ability to foretell. As suddenly,

without discernable source, as she had been stricken,

she has regained her vital energy, full force.  I don't

know what any of this means, but sincerely hope we

are freed from continuing grave misfortune, that any 

future revelation be to our good.