Once there were were two women
who never knew each other
One you do not remember,
The other you call mother.

The two women stood on a hill that looked like it could've been any on earth--a swelling of earth covered in grass, overlooking an immense sea of tall green. But the sun overhead was larger, giving off less warmth, and shed a cast of red light over everything. Some alien poet had once dubbed this the Bloody Sun, and the taller blonde's only reflection was how appropriate that name had become.

"It's you," the taller blond said, using the language of dreams.

And the smaller blond smiled, her face as lined and careworn as the dark-eyed woman. The smaller woman's blue eyes shone with tears. "It's you. It's us."

Two different lives
shaped to make your one.
One became your guiding star
the other became your sun.

The smaller woman could read her children's bloodlines in the taller woman's face. It was in her tall, graceful stature, the tilt of her chin, and even the way her blond hair framed her dark eyes. The wide-set eyes and the arched brows reminded the smaller woman of her son, while the oval-shaped perfect profile was the very image of her daughter.

"I can see you in their faces, in their voices. You are them," the smaller woman said, a catch in her voice. "You are their mother."

"And I can see you in their gestures and their thoughts," the taller woman answered with a smile. "They have become you, their mother."

The first gave you life
and the second taught you to live in it.
The first gave you a need to love
And the second was there to give it.

"You loved them." The taller woman couldn't help noticing that the smaller blonde's face bore many of the same lines--the careworn marks of a true mother. "You love them a lot."

And when the smaller woman smiled, her face lit up like the sun. "They're my world," she said simply. "They needed me, and I needed them, and we raised each other. I couldn't give them everything, but I tried my best."

And they shared a smile of kinship, for the children they'd raised together.

"I envy you. You had them longer. But you watched them die in your arms." The two women looked out across the rolling hills.

"You lost your own child though. The child of your blood who never even lived long enough to take one breath. You never held your son in your arms." The taller woman turned back to the smaller woman. "We both know motherhood's price."

There were tears in the blue eyes, but they smiled with a quiet strength. "And I'm honored that I had that chance. I wouldn't hesitate to do it again, even if they were just loaned to me for a little while."

And the taller woman smiled. "You did a wonderful job. I couldn't ask for more."

One gave you a nationality
The other gave you a name
One gave you the seed of talent
The other gave you an aim.

"She cried, our little girl. She cried for the one we lost track of. And our son cried too--every night, though he could never tell me why. I think he almost remembered you, and I tried so hard to be you--"

The taller woman stopped the blue-eyed woman's words with a finger against the smaller woman's lips. "You did a good job," the dark-eyed woman repeated. "We both did the only thing we could do--love our children, and taught them everything we could." She closed her eyes for a moment, a silent look of prayer on her elegant face. "If only we did enough..."

One gave you emotions
The other calmed your fears
One saw your first sweet smile
The other dried your tears.

The smaller woman laid a hand on the taller woman's shoulder. "We both did a good job. Our children are beautiful. And if anyone can help you--if anyone is better prepared..."

And they both stood in silence, leaning on each other, remembering what it was like to raise the girl and the boy. "But they're so young," the dark-eyed woman whispered. "They sacrificed their lives too soon for something bigger than all of them, and I'm asking again for them to do the same thing. What kind of mother am I?"

"You don't need to ask, because our children would be halfway there at the first sign of trouble. Our fighters, our pure of heart. They're young, but they can do it. Our heroes." But there was a look of pain on the smaller woman's face. "The heroes are always too young."

"Thank you," the smaller woman said. "Thank you for giving me your greatest gift."

And the taller woman smiled, her eyes dark with tears. "Thank you for raising them so well. We need them now--more than ever." She reached out a slender hand, wiping the smaller woman's tears as their daughter had done so many times. "Thank you for loving them enough to let us have them back."

And they wrapped their arms around each other, sisters in all but blood.

"Give them my love, Artemis. Please don't ever let them forget that I love them."

And Artemis leaned down to kiss the smaller woman's face, crying the same tears and feeling the same loss, as if she were giving up her babies for a second time. "I don't think they ever could forget, Diane. A mother's heart never forgets."

One gave you up,
it was all she could do
The other prayed for a child
And God led her straight to you.

"Legacy of an Adopted Child"--author unknown.

Back to Area 51 (Section II)