Inky Blue Reminders
"If I could change one thing..."
The question was typed on the top of a piece of paper, the ink blue and deep and fuzzy around the edges from being run through a mimeograph machine. Ada couldn't remember exactly when she had filled out the paper, but from her writing, and the fact that it was in crayon, she imagined that it was when she was fairly young. The piece of paper must have fallen between the refrigerator and the counter, because she had found it there, covered in dust from all the years in between.
Once the dust was cleared, Ada took the paper into the light over the table and looked over her bubbly, childish writing. Apparently, a green crayon had been her choice for filling out the lines. She hadn't really noticed, but each line had a continuation of the larger statement at the top of the paper.
"If I could change one thing about my house..."
Ada smirked and glanced around at the kitchen. She had grown up in the same house she shared with Ghent, Lily, and Ethan, and she couldn't remember the last time she had considered changing the wallpaper, or the carpet, or the way the walls bowed and seemed to make everything feel askew. But, children didn't think the same way as adults, and Ada noted that the statement was finished in crayon: "I would make it out of cake."
The idea made her chuckle and shake her head. Of course, she liked cake, but not enough to live in a house made from it. But, it was the sort of youthful excitement around sweets that made the statement so absurdly sweet. Figure friendly? Not so much.
"If I could change one thing about my pets..."
This answer she knew, even if she didn't remember filling in the line. Very simply written, the young Ada had finished the statement in bold, "I would get one!" The exclamation point seemed to hang awkwardly on the end of the statement, and there was a drawing of what could have been a cat face at the end of the line.
Ada remembered how desperately she had wanted a cat, but her father had always insisted that it was better that she didn't have any pets. Of course, the reasons were different every time, and after much argument it always ended with Flynn telling his daughter that they just weren't home enough to take care of a cat. Somewhat idly, Ada wondered where they had gone to so often, but finally decided it probably had something to do with the papers and correspondences from the doctors and the psychologists that she kept in her room.
"If I could change something about my family..."
Her rose-colored eyes looked over the words, and followed them to the juvenile writing. Family back then had meant something so different than what it meant to her presently, so it didn't surprise her when she read "I would get a mother." Ada couldn't really blame her younger self for wanting a mother, but she knew it had been more because her father missed her mother, and not because Ada had wanted a mother figure for herself.
Inevitably, her thoughts moved to the daughter she had seen in the future. Ada wondered if Hannah would ever have to fill out such a silly questionnaire, and what her answers would be. Would they be at all similar to her mother's answers? Somewhere, deep down, Ada hoped that the little Hannah's heart and mind would take after her father's as much as her looks had -- even more so in the rather depressing future where Theron was her kidnapper and primary caregiver, since Ada knew the little girl would probably need every advantage she could get.
A soft sigh escaped Ada, and she set the paper down on the counter. It did her little good to worry about something so far ahead in the time line, since she only had so many options presently to change things. So, she looked at the last statement that she had answered and propped her head into her chin as she leaned over the paper.
"If I could change one thing about myself..."
Before reading, she considered the question presently. There weren't a lot of things that Ada really thought about when it came to herself. She knew her hair and eyes were strange to some, but she felt it was what made her different -- unique, even in a world where strange colors were commonplace. She had the bump on her collarbone from an ill-fated football tackle, but once she had know that it didn't matter to Ghent, it didn't matter so much to her anymore.
And there was the arm... Ada had gotten so used to having the robotic arm, that she could hardly imagine what it would be like to have a normal one again. There really wasn't much about herself that she felt needed changing -- in fact, the only thing she really felt she would change were her shoes, and that was easily remedied.
Her younger self must have felt different, though, because there was just a simple answer, which made Ada sort of sad: "I would change me."
At least she didn't still feel that way. And, to prove it to herself, Ada took a pencil and crossed out everything she had written in one big X, before writing in, "If I could change one thing, I would change nothing. My life is perfect." And she meant it, too.
The mimeographed paper was displayed proudly on the refrigerator, where it had been before it had slipped off into the void many, many years before. If she had looked closer, and paid more attention, she might have seen the small "241" written in the bottom corner.
((This is written for play on March 10, 2008. For more information or questions, send a PM or e-mail to Adalia Dodd.))
"If I could change one thing..."
The question was typed on the top of a piece of paper, the ink blue and deep and fuzzy around the edges from being run through a mimeograph machine. Ada couldn't remember exactly when she had filled out the paper, but from her writing, and the fact that it was in crayon, she imagined that it was when she was fairly young. The piece of paper must have fallen between the refrigerator and the counter, because she had found it there, covered in dust from all the years in between.
Once the dust was cleared, Ada took the paper into the light over the table and looked over her bubbly, childish writing. Apparently, a green crayon had been her choice for filling out the lines. She hadn't really noticed, but each line had a continuation of the larger statement at the top of the paper.
"If I could change one thing about my house..."
Ada smirked and glanced around at the kitchen. She had grown up in the same house she shared with Ghent, Lily, and Ethan, and she couldn't remember the last time she had considered changing the wallpaper, or the carpet, or the way the walls bowed and seemed to make everything feel askew. But, children didn't think the same way as adults, and Ada noted that the statement was finished in crayon: "I would make it out of cake."
The idea made her chuckle and shake her head. Of course, she liked cake, but not enough to live in a house made from it. But, it was the sort of youthful excitement around sweets that made the statement so absurdly sweet. Figure friendly? Not so much.
"If I could change one thing about my pets..."
This answer she knew, even if she didn't remember filling in the line. Very simply written, the young Ada had finished the statement in bold, "I would get one!" The exclamation point seemed to hang awkwardly on the end of the statement, and there was a drawing of what could have been a cat face at the end of the line.
Ada remembered how desperately she had wanted a cat, but her father had always insisted that it was better that she didn't have any pets. Of course, the reasons were different every time, and after much argument it always ended with Flynn telling his daughter that they just weren't home enough to take care of a cat. Somewhat idly, Ada wondered where they had gone to so often, but finally decided it probably had something to do with the papers and correspondences from the doctors and the psychologists that she kept in her room.
"If I could change something about my family..."
Her rose-colored eyes looked over the words, and followed them to the juvenile writing. Family back then had meant something so different than what it meant to her presently, so it didn't surprise her when she read "I would get a mother." Ada couldn't really blame her younger self for wanting a mother, but she knew it had been more because her father missed her mother, and not because Ada had wanted a mother figure for herself.
Inevitably, her thoughts moved to the daughter she had seen in the future. Ada wondered if Hannah would ever have to fill out such a silly questionnaire, and what her answers would be. Would they be at all similar to her mother's answers? Somewhere, deep down, Ada hoped that the little Hannah's heart and mind would take after her father's as much as her looks had -- even more so in the rather depressing future where Theron was her kidnapper and primary caregiver, since Ada knew the little girl would probably need every advantage she could get.
A soft sigh escaped Ada, and she set the paper down on the counter. It did her little good to worry about something so far ahead in the time line, since she only had so many options presently to change things. So, she looked at the last statement that she had answered and propped her head into her chin as she leaned over the paper.
"If I could change one thing about myself..."
Before reading, she considered the question presently. There weren't a lot of things that Ada really thought about when it came to herself. She knew her hair and eyes were strange to some, but she felt it was what made her different -- unique, even in a world where strange colors were commonplace. She had the bump on her collarbone from an ill-fated football tackle, but once she had know that it didn't matter to Ghent, it didn't matter so much to her anymore.
And there was the arm... Ada had gotten so used to having the robotic arm, that she could hardly imagine what it would be like to have a normal one again. There really wasn't much about herself that she felt needed changing -- in fact, the only thing she really felt she would change were her shoes, and that was easily remedied.
Her younger self must have felt different, though, because there was just a simple answer, which made Ada sort of sad: "I would change me."
At least she didn't still feel that way. And, to prove it to herself, Ada took a pencil and crossed out everything she had written in one big X, before writing in, "If I could change one thing, I would change nothing. My life is perfect." And she meant it, too.
The mimeographed paper was displayed proudly on the refrigerator, where it had been before it had slipped off into the void many, many years before. If she had looked closer, and paid more attention, she might have seen the small "241" written in the bottom corner.
((This is written for play on March 10, 2008. For more information or questions, send a PM or e-mail to Adalia Dodd.))