His Voice Brought Her Home

His Voice Brought Her Home 

by JessicaRae

There was something about his voice that brought her to her senses. A voice that in turmoil could offer strength, and in weakness, offer peace.

Her days Above were full of running to and fro, leads, dead ends, and a desire to somehow right all the wrongs that the city was capable of enduring. When she reached her apartment after a difficult day of not being enough, his voice reminded her that she was loved and cherished by him alone, and that was truly all that mattered. When she felt as if every ounce of strength was drained from her body and the night would be too long before dawn arose again, his voice reminded her that she was strong. When she grieved the loss of those that she had loved, and those that she had failed to save, his voice reminded her that she would be happy again. When she was lost in the hope of a future, but shackled by the restraints of the present, his voice reminded her that they would somehow make it through. When she focused a little too much on reality, and not enough on her wishes, his voice reminded her that it was okay to build air castles to keep giving hope its wings. When she felt as if every experience of life threatened to drive her to the recluse of the shadows of failure, his voice reminded her to love the light. When she felt numb from fears and weakened by the mistakes of those around her, his voice reminded her that she alone was enough.

"I have failed them, Vincent," She wept into his cloak.

His gentle hands held her close and his eyes would have given her the world. "Dearest Catherine," he spoke kindly, "You have not failed. You have merely been given an opportunity to try again."

She gave him a grateful smile and together they watched the rain fall upon her living room window, tracking rivers down its translucent panes.

"Vincent?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think the flowers are sad when it rains and beats them into the mud?"

Vincent's gentle laugh sent chills down her spine, and his arms wrapped around her shoulders.

"They welcome rain, Catherine. It is the only source of life that makes them grow. They may end up in the mud sometimes, but the sun will come out again and warms them, giving them the strength to rise up straight and tall again."

"Vincent?"

"Yes?"

"You are my sun."

When she felt as if adrift on the sea of worry and drowning in the tragedy of the past, his voice brought her home again.

"If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever."

― Alfred Tennyson