Spring Planting, Mother’s Day 1, Year of the Lion number 428; February, 11, 1739 Agathon; Linne 182
Where have the days gone? Today is the first day of the new year in the Tabaxi calendar. At home, in Czethai, we’d be celebrating the turning of the weather toward spring, enjoying a feast, and, most importantly, recognizing all the pregnant women in our clan.
If I’d stay home, I wonder if I would have been among them. Certainly, my family would have been gleaming with delight as I walked in the parade, wearing frilly lace and flowers. My husband standing proudly watching with the other young men, all sharing some sort of inside man-joke.
I don’t know. Part of me longs for the tradition of our culture. Yet, the discoveries I’ve made in less than a year are beyond anything I could ever have imagined. Living isolated, in a small community, around the same people all the time, has its advantages. But so much is missed. There’s so much world to discover. And I’ve only scratched the surface.
The past several days, since the breach of the dyke, I’ve been helping the locals of this city rebuild. It hasn’t been easy, and several workers were injured. Fortunately, the clerics from the local temples were always on hand to heal. Syreni’s magic is instrumental as well. I’d never seen a caster like her before. To her, manipulating reality with a thought is second-nature. She waves her hands, mutters some words, and, just like that, things happen.
Each evening, as the sun dips low to the west and the foremen call for the end of the workday, all of us workers gather around a bonfire. We share drinks, stories, and song. I felt a camaraderie with these men and women, who represent several races as well – dragonborn, dwarf, tiefling, half-elf, human. There is even a gnome and a couple half-orcs. Around the fire and while rebuilding, we pay little attention to the fact that we are different. Of course, the strong ones do the heavy lifting, while those without the physical strength pay more attention to detail work. My agility is far superior than most of the crew, so I am responsible for walking along the top of the wall catching and tossing ropes. Once I slipped and fell into the river, but I was fished out before I’d taken my first breath. It is slow, but efficient. We’re taking the opportunity to identify and fix many cracks and defects in hopes to prevent this disaster from happening again.
But tonight, as I relax in my hotel room, I realized that I haven’t updated my journal in a while. Today is the first day of the new year, as I already wrote. I took a moment to flip back through the pages to reflect on my experiences since I left home. I note the names of the people who have touched me, and are now part of me. For those that still live, I wonder if I had the same effect on them. I wonder if they remember me. For those that have died, I hope their souls are safe and comfortable in the afterlife. If nothing else, I will keep their memory alive in my journal, and someday, perhaps, it will be read by others and their legacy will live on.
Alas. It is late. My muscles are sore, and we’re expecting an early start tomorrow. They say the work will be done within two-to-three weeks. Where I’ll go from here I don’t know. Perhaps I’ll head south to Shrinehall in Gathia. They tell me the underground halls are the most magnificent in the world. I suspect a bit of bias, but who am I to say otherwise?
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