FFXIV Write: 18 – Make Up Day
Row
http://www.dictionary.com
noun
a number of persons or things arranged in a line, especially a straight line.
Novel
adjective
of a new and unusual kind; different from anything seen or known before.
Setting the rake back onto the rack on the side of the gardening shed, Katja looked over her afternoon’s work: Tidy rows of freshly-tilled and planted earth lay carefully cultivated. Small sprouts of various vegetables poked up from the deep-brown loam. A fresh watering and a fastidious weeding was bringing the garden right along. She’d probably have a goodly crop of pumpkins just in time for All Saints’ Wake.
She made her way over to the garden swing, flopping into it bonelessly as it swayed to and fro, fanning her with the sea-scented breeze. Work on the house was moving along, the Carpenter’s Guild had gutted the house down to barebones and foundation and were now putting up proper walls and such. It wouldn’t be too long before it looked like a proper house again. Katja sat on the swing, looking up at the skeletal silhouette of the house, wondering just what kind of place it would grow into. What kind of place she would make it.
It was a goodly-sized house, more than enough for just her. She’d invite Tora to live, of course, but he had his own place with his uncle so she wasn’t sure if he’d accept or not. She could have guest rooms for T’Shira and Valeria whenever her friends decided to visit.
That was a novel idea — at least for her. She never really thought she’d see the day that she cared enough for anyone to carve a place for them in her life. She never really thought she’d see the day that people cared enough for her to accept. Granted, she hadn’t asked any of them about it as of yet, but she probably would soon. After all, if they said no, she’d have to think of what else she wanted to do with the space. Maybe a nice room for mother…
It would be nice to bring her away from Gridania and all of its bad memories. The scent of the sea and a life on the beach might be just what her mother needed to bring her out of her fugue. Katja’s eyes misted over at the thought. Wouldn’t that be nice if that was all she needed?
Worn out from the day’s work, Katja curled up on the bench and was swayed to sleep by the back and forth motion of the tree swing. She would dream of happier days, tending the garden with her mother and T’Shira; evenings spent in front of the fireplace that had yet to be built, listening to mother’s stories with Tora; nights spent pawing through the library that the house would undoubtedly have, helping Valeria solve some mystery. It was the stuff of dreams. But, for once, they were good dreams and Katja slept well.