HER

"Things will get better," she whispered in a soft but firm voice, "We'll be fine, you'll see. It'll all get better before you know it." The look in her eyes suggested that she was sure of it, not minding what I thought I could see. And I believed her. I had to - it was my last thread of hope.

 We'd passed through thunder, storms, blisters, quakes and all. "Together," she'll say, "Together we'll sail. Just don't you leave me." There'd been the happy and glorious times, where I had nothing to worry about. In those days I rarely heard her voice. I'd only feel her content smile and the blissful calmness of her empowering presence. There'd also been the tough and painful times -of misunderstandings, worry, incessant turmoils; times I was sure I'd drown. But all I needed was her presence. Each time she was there, we had made it, through everything - together. I'd come to reverence her words, though few, were powerful. If she said 'yes', then yes it was. Yes it'd always be, at least for me. Maybe because I believed; or because it is the first voice I knew; or because I always trust - and it's always, always true.