Panthea exited from the trees into the open air. It was a little cold and crisp out in the small field, not shielded from the light breeze by the density of the leaves. She gave a slight shiver and continued on towards the center of the open area, crossing her arms and holding her elbows. Eventually she stopped somewhere that felt approximately in the center of the space.
It was a calming space. She could see how it was that they had spent so much time here together. It was a good place to be. The openness and movement of the grass in response to the wind created a feeling of liveliness—of gentle, steady action. It was not intense; it merely continued along its way, a steady progression to nowhere. Like the dull hum of a low bass string that played to no end. Waiting for accompaniment from anyone who had something to add, but playing whether they added to it or not.
"Hi, Panthea. Out for a walk?" It was the voice of Marisol. She had snuck up, probably without meaning to. Surprisingly, Panthea had not been startled: that dull bass had built up an expectation of an accompaniment, and here it was.
"Hello, Marisol," Panthea said quietly, without turning to look at her.
"Hi!" She repeated, then paused for a minute, toeing at the grass with her boot. "I'm trying to pretend this is really normal, but it's sort of weird—okay, really weird—to see you out here, so I was just wondering what's going on. Not to be nosy. Everything alright?"
"It's alright. I'm... exploring," Panthea responded, carefully.
"Cool! I probably need to do more of that. I haven't really been many places except the city and here in... wow, it's been awhile. Months? Years? Hoo boy." Marisol sighed and stared at the ocean. She was quiet for a moment, then: "This place is nostalgic."
"I imagine it would be," Panthea said steadily.
"I'm sorry if it bothers you. It doesn't bother you, does it? The fact that..." she trailed off a moment. "You know, I guess, er... kind of like, I was, uh.. I guess like, the Important One, you know, for a little while." Marisol rubbed her arm awkwardly and looked away into the woods.
Panthea turned to face her. "Please don't think that, Marisol. There's no jealousy in me about that. You were where you needed to be and being exactly what you needed to be. And you were living your life too, being what you wanted to be. I couldn't be more pleased to know that those times were happy for you. I merely stepped aside because that was no longer what I needed to be. What I wanted wasn't even a factor."
She gently placed a hand on Marisol's shoulder. "You and I were like sisters. Maybe even mother and daughter, if you'll permit it."
Marisol's chest quivered. Panthea delivered the final blow: "You were wonderful."
Marisol burst into tears. It hadn't been at all the kind of response she expected. "I- I can't believe you just said all that," she whimpered semi-ironically, through sniffles, "since when do you have that much to say? You were so quiet back then."
Panthea half-shrugged. "I became nothing so you could become everything. There wasn't much for me to say. It was your job to speak." She said this matter-of-factly, and was slightly surprised when a renewed sob came from Marisol. Panthea held her to her chest and stroked her hair, resting a cheek on her head. "There, there," she said gently.
This went on for some time, in relative silence, minus the gentle sobbing. Marisol hugged Panthea tightly around the waist, burying her face in her neck. The mother/daughter comparison felt apt in that moment to both of them. Eventually, she calmed down some, pulled away, and rubbed her nose messily on her sleeve. Then, embarrassed, she quickly took her other sleeve, pulled it over her hand, and wiped that away also. Panthea smiled a little and said nothing.
"That was really kind of you to say," Marisol said slowly, "not least of all because I'm sure you know I always looked up to you. You were perfect in a way I couldn't imagine ever being."
"Nor should you have wanted to. I was perfect in my simplicity. You were more than me." Panthea looked at her kindly. "You were wonderful, really. Never doubt yourself or what you accomplished."
"Please stop before I start crying again," Marisol half-laughed and then sniffed loudly. She looked at the ocean again for a little bit and then back to Panthea. "I don't think you finished explaining though. Why are you here? What's got you up and exploring?"
"It's simply time," Panthea replied quietly. "There's so much here, now." Panthea slowly took a deep breath and looked out over the grass as it waved in the wind. "It's beautiful." She watched it ripple for a little while longer before continuing. "It's all my home, a home I've never really seen. Just like it's your home. We're family, of a sort... I don't really know what to make of it, currently. I just want to see it."
"Are you really ready?" Marisol asked good naturedly. "Are you sure it's what you want?" She gently grabbed Panthea's hand. "You know that you have all the time you need or want, you don't need to rush. I mean, I know it's been years, but, I'm just saying. If you're doing this out of any concern for us, or the world..."
"I'm doing it because I have no concerns," Panthea retorted quickly. "Everything is wonderful. I don't need any more time because there is no longer any reason for me to become anything. That's precisely why I can become anything, now. But I don't know what to become, or if I should become anything new. Maybe the way I am is good enough. But it doesn't matter, because the world doesn't need me. And that's wonderful."
Marisol went from looking worried to looking pleased, to looking worried, to looking pleased again over the course of the response. "I think I get it," she said, finally. "You're right that we've survived without you. We don't need you, so now we're free to want you here. Is that it?"
"You were always a smart girl," Panthea gently smiled back.
"Well, Mom," Marisol intoned a little sarcastically, "I'm sure everyone will be glad to know that you're out and about, and I know I am. And you know that I'm here to help you turn into anything you want. We can do a makeover! Or you know, put you into a cocoon and watch you emerge into a giant Godzilla-type-creature. There are a lot of options. You can stop by anytime and workshop it!"
Panthea gave a little nose-laugh. "I'd like that, Mari," she paused for a moment, "visiting with you, not becoming Godzilla."
"A Godzilla-type-creature, not Godzilla. That would be ridiculous, there's already plenty of Godzillas," Marisol gave a big smile as she responded, "we definitely don't need more of those. You'll have to be something original if you want to stand out in the kaiju space."
Panthea simply smiled and shook her head gently, turning back to the sea. She looked at the lighthouse for some time. She had never known why it was there. It was somehow beautiful, but it seemed ominous to her, too. She felt somehow that it should be left alone for now. The world, living and breathing as it was, deserved its mysteries. Its chaos was intrinsic to it. She debated in that moment whether it was really her place to plumb the depths of that chaos, or whether it was something to leave be and simply accept. It wasn't a decision she'd have to make in this moment.
There was a chaos inside her that connected her to this place and the people in it. An entropy? No, that's not quite right. Simply a disorder. But the idea of putting it into order was hideous. She looked at Marisol again, who had ceased talking (rare, for her) and was also simply looking at the sea. Truly, they were made of the same stuff. Not matter nor consciousness (though certainly those too). They were made of... something else. That chaos. That disorder. That will. That surrender of will.
It didn't matter. They—the world, her, and Marisol—had always been one and the same. If there was anything for her to learn about herself, it was out here as much as it was inside her.