Eric

Eric. Oh, Eric.

There are not many things I am proud of... nor things I've done that are good. But those two categories overlap when it comes to Eric. My son.

It was 1848 when I was in a hospital dying of the white plague in London in a hospital. I had just jumped a body into this one and it was already dying and passed my influence to turn the tides. A young noble lady was carted in next to me suddenly in a flurry of movement.

They people attending to her said her carriage had gone off of the bridge and into a boat. She some how survived, but was badly hurt. Her husband was dead. As people rushed about I jumped out of the dying body and went to her. She was distraught... and consumed with sorrow over her husband's passing. When people are in their states like this, injured both physically and mentally. Those are the easiest to jump into. So to end her misery I jumped into her.

I lived happily in her. Went to her husbands funeral. And when people thought she was acting differently they all chalked it up to her changing after her love died. But soon I began to feel ill again. I was afraid that I had passed on my illness from one body to another and that's when I found out something very surprising.

That woman was pregnant when I lept into her. And despite all the changes in the body the child survived, and finally on a snowy night on December 14th, my Eric was born. I had never taken care of a child before. I mean, I looked after them from time to time but raising one? I had no experience... I never even had a mother or father let alone been one myself.

So I taught him to be good. I taught him to love all those love him and treat him kindly and to treat those who would treat him wrong kindly as well. I taught him languages, listened to music with him, told him grand stories, and traveled with him.

I remember he had the funniest bunny teeth and the prettiest blue eyes you would have ever seen. And his hair! Oh it was so hard to comb...

Every moment I could, I devoted to him. My darling little boy. He never questioned me. Never pointed out my odd features save for once... He

He told me one day, when we were in Italy, looking at art... he said "Mommy, you have the most beautiful eyes." I told him he had the most beautiful eyes and kissed his forehead

My wonderful boy. I watched him grow up into a kind and gentle man. Into one with many friends and many who he loved and they loved him. He became a musician, playing in an orchestra. He played beautiful music for me.

Even after I lived out that body till it crumbled around me, I watched over him as he grew older. Never being able to tell him who I was. That I was alright. That I loved him dearly.

I was his best friend who played cello in the orchestra.
I was his wife's best bridge friend.
I was the maid who watched over his children
I was the man who helped him settle his wife's will
I was the nurse who held his hand as he died...

And as my boy faded away I couldn't even tell him his mother would be waiting for him. He told me my eyes reminded him of his mother and he was so happy to look into them as he passed. I could only tell him that she loved him as did everyone who came into his life and that everything he had done was selfless and kind.

Then he was gone... and I would never see him again.

I heard it once said that its like a stone in your pocket. You notice it at first, constantly almost, but as you go about things you begin to almost forget about it. It feels lighter and eventually you hardly notice it. Occasionally though... you have to reach back into your pocket, and you feel that weight all over again.


Eric... taught me a lot of things...




Sometimes..

I just

I just wish I didn't feel this human...















Do you all have this stone in your heart? Weighing you down?
How far can you run before the pain catches you?