
Ten million
minutes
a number so large that to write
all the zeros seems
obscene
beyond comprehension
so much
done
thought
felt
given
received
how many more do we have left?
There lived a olive-skinned, brunette maiden on an island barely inside the circle of the north pole. She fell in love with a fairer young shiny knight disguised in chammies and seargent's strips. After treks back and forth around the world seperately and quite a bit of snail mail (alas, this was such a once upon a time that email simply wasn't available for most peasants, maidens or knights), they met again, declared their mutual love and were married.
Many years later, they had built a castle of memories. Memory castles are easier to move and being nomads, they simply couldn't afford to build a stone dwelling. The books were heavy enought to move from place to place. While sometimes parted, they still remained true and faithful. They made each other strong. As time went on, they had children, fairy-like little ones that both glitter and amazed while still also driving them as crazy as gnats somedays. The maiden and the knight grew comfortable together and were parted less oft.
And, then, a challenge was raised. The knight would go far away among strangers for a fortnight while the maiden would unpack the castle of memories and set it up in a rather colder, damper location than the sunny coast they had enjoyed for a few years. The knight left. The maiden began by distracting the spritish children with treats and grand stories. Whether or not the maiden survived the fortnight depends greatly on her resourcefulness, patience and humor. That is another chapter.