Dated Jan 15
Geneva was content to have some time to herself. It had been a while since she had enjoyed the joys of solitude. As much as she loved the constant clamor of pack life, it was nice to retreat into the recesses of her mind and reflect on her thoughts and feelings. She had been unable to do so for several weeks it seemed. She was busy from the moment she rose to greet the day to the time she laid her head down to rest. She often divided her attention between her own family, either seeking Jefferson out to share a few stolen minutes alone together, or seeking out her son. He spent more and more time by himself these days, which was natural. And giving him the space to do so came more easily to her than she thought it would.
Within the warmth of the ranch, Geneva spread out, lying on her belly on the braided rug in front of the fireplace. This room held such happy memories for her. She had spent most of her time with Jefferson here, content to be quiet and in his presence. He would often read in his rocking chair, and she would do what she was doing now. Her lime green eyes skimmed over older pages of writing. Her journal had been scarcely touched in many months, because she had her renewed subleader duties to occupy her.
She turned to a clean page and began to write in her journal. After the pack meeting, I could not stop thinking about Jordan. I am so happy with Jefferson, and I love Pripyat more than I thought I could ever love another creature. But I still wonder how life would be different if my father had never died, if Jordan had never gotten sick…and if my daughter had lived. Would she be like Pripyat at all?
Geneva pushed herself up, setting her pen aside. She rose to find another pen to use. Pens in good working condition were scarce, and she had not thought to retrieve many more from Halifax during her recent trip there. Perhaps she had a spare one in her bedroom. She padded quietly down the hall, her journal still wide open and forgotten for the moment on the braided rug.
WC 380