The morning sun shines through the stained glass window above, creating the most spectacular rays of color on the temple flowerbeds. It usually brings joy to my heart, but there is a bittersweet melancholy lingering within me today. Home has been on my mind. How I miss it so... After this morning's bath and prayers, I looked upon a flower arrangement in the chapel I had put together. I noticed I had arranged it exactly how my mother would. It made me realize that where I am now, in these halls of splendor that I have had the privelege of walking through every day, is much in part because of her.
While not a Sunite in name, she is certainly one in heart and soul. She lives for love, passion, and beauty. I remember as a child how the home would be woken from its slumber with the sounds of clanking dishes in the kitchen and her hums of song greeting the family. The table would have a vase of arranged flowers in the middle, or a centerpiece of our most recent fruit harvests. She would switch tablecloths with the holidays and seasons. The decor of the home would follow. Light pastels in the spring, vibrant colors in the summer, rich shades in the fall, and cool tones in the winter. The garland above the fire-place was an ever-changing work of art, with each season represented in their most beautiful attributes. The walls were adorned with homemade paintings and handcrafted decorations. Every inch of the home has my mother's influence and eye for beauty.
She is also a fierce defender of her family and friends. I have memories of being mortified at her passionate rebuttals to those who would mock me and call me names. How she would protect me from those that wished nothing good of me. I could have sworn the light of nearby candles blazed brighter in her passionate aura. It certainly was not easy raising a child of celestial blood, especially when you don't know. But she loved and protected me with the same fiery resillience she had for the rest of the family. I have memories of her guarding father from despair when we would have a year of bad harvest. Her words of comfort, you could visibly see lift his spirits. I have memories of the year she took in a family fleeing a dangerous home. How she saved that mother's life and kept the darkness from crossing our own threshold, allowing her to heal within the warmth of our home. And every year, after the harvests, mother routinely brings dinners to homes in need. She has a heart for lifting people up, empowered by her faith.
While mainly a follower of Hathor, she does offer reverence to several others. I remember waking early one morning, before the dawn, where she was sitting in her chair in the living area, looking so serene and at ease as she offered her quiet prayers to her deity. A journal in her lap had a list of names, and she was praying for each person on that list. Me and the rest of the family would be near the top, but then she would have others, like the neighbors, like Rina the weaver, Bern the tavern owner, and even some people who have came and went from our small village. Every single person prayed for, wishing them love and protection, along with unique requests of healing and resolution from whatever burdens each person on her list was facing. And it was not just that single morning that I happened to witness her doing such a thing. She does these prayers and devotions every morning. Not a single day missed. Even now, I can say with uptmost certainty she is still doing that to this day. She starts her day with faith and ends it with faith.
I think back to that memory and smile, as I too have a journal now, where I write people's names and pray for love and protection for them, and ask that they be healed or eased of the individual burdens they carry.
"Please protect him and his house. Let his wisdom grow by your way."
"Guide their love and help it to flourish like the gardens in spring."
"Open his mind so that he may open his heart to love. Heal him from the wounds that are slow to heal."
"Bring light to the darkness and sorrow that dims her soul."
"Bless her life, and gift her with endurance to keep going."
"Show him a way to use his flame to bring light and warmth, rather than burn things that get too close."
"Hold him close, and help him foster the beautiful path he has taken."
These are just but a few that I pray for. My list of names grow longer as time passes. My prayers get a little longer too, but I hold nothing but gratitude for such things. It is a blessing to have this many people in my life to have the opportunity to love. I have my mother to thank for showing me the value of loving people, for creating and expressing beauty in all things, and for carrying a fire of passion that inspires others. In my darkest times, in the bittersweet times, in the times when I struggle, I can think back to her radiant example that leaves me in awe and inspires me to be a better Sunite every day. My heart aches to see her again. To see everyone back home. But I remind myself to hold onto the memories, wrap them around me for comfort when I am missing home. The memories in of themselves, gifts from my family, I am gratefull to have with me here all the way in Baldur's Gate. They give me strength, so that I can carry on the legacy of love my mother and many others have passed down to me.
