longing, we say

Red Fox (Vulpes vulpes)

Afterlight Author: Sangu Mandanna

on occasion,

my mother will hand me a sack of things.

“old jewelry, a purse you would like. some vitamins and supplements, too.”

and in between all the proof that

she thinks about me every day and wants me to be happy

and want for nothing,

there is always

something sharp and sweet and terribly sad—

a photo, or a hundred

of a life once lived and not completed,

a golden band that doesn’t mean anything

in today’s dollars,

letters that reference a long-buried love.

evidence of youth and joy that looks and feels decades old.

when my fingers pass over the ring, smudge the paper, wrinkle the photos,

i am consumed with a longing i can’t describe,

and resentment fills a thimble in my chest.

but love is like that, i suppose—

when you pass down love, the hurt comes with it, too.

Like when Gandalf spent literal PAGES trying to figure out why the vibes were off in Moria and Legolas chimes in with just "it's a balrog :) that shit's evil :) we're so fucked :)" like what do you MEAN you knew already and just didn't tell him??

Or at the beginning of Two Towers when Aragorn thinks there's something nearby so he puts his ear to the ground to listen, and then like 10 minutes later is like "hmmm i hear horses" and Legolas is just like "mm yep. there are 105 blond bitches with spears" like you just let your friend put his face in the dirt and you can SEE them??

gandalf is scratching his head in moria, and legolas is thinking "oh man, the wizard noticed something off *besides* the obvious balrog that we all are aware of??"