I took Lucy to the ice-rink today. My new metal bones were wanting for exercise. Ice-skating is my favorite activity of all time, I think. Honestly, of all time. Over sex, even, and I really used to love having sex. I forget sex. But the rush I get when the cold, icy air splits in front of me as I glide across that crystal block is something I can't ever forget. It's peaceful.
It was her first time on the ice. She did great. I don't want to love this kid but I feel myself starting to. I don't want to feel vulnerable. I don't want to feel like something I love is just going to poof! out of existence. Lucy is different, though. Her laugh reaches into the depths of me and pulls my laughter out, too. Her tears become my pain. Her life is inexplicably tied to mine. She isn't even my child. She's not my Domenica. She's Lucy, though, and while I love her differently, she reminds me how in love I was with my daughter. Not how horrible I feel that my daughter no longer is. That I never knew how she died. Or when.
I kept my eyes on Lucy's black curls as she began to get the hang of the right way to glide. She got the hang of it so fast and I felt such pride. I looked around at the ice rink, down over the rails at the green field below, and thought to myself how proud I was of the rest of the world, for getting the hang of it. We fixed so many things, together. I feel such pride about our campaigns. The Under Grounder Movement, that was the one I was thinking of today. We've got everything figured out, it seems. I just can't figure out what happened to Domenica. It will never stop haunting me. Lucy reminds me of her, so very much.
So long as Domenica haunts me is so long as I'll wait it out here to find her. I never stop funding that search. But just like 200 years ago, just like 400 years ago, just like almost 600 years ago, all they know is that Domenica disappeared.