An Empty Dollhouse

I thought it would have been easier. I should know by now that nothing is easy.

I thought that I could do this on my own, raising a child, but now, even before she’s made her entrance into the world, I’m having second thoughts. Maybe I should have stayed in Ar. Maybe I should have told Castor he was going to be a father. Or maybe I should have taken Aiden up on his offer.

I realize there is no real answer to my impending dilemma and that I had no choice in what I have done, but that doesn’t seem to make me feel and better. So many women here are with child, each eagerly awaiting their baby’s birth, while I falsify the death of my daughter’s father. I miss him.

One of the women that had done such a splendid job on the fair recently gave birth to a daughter, so I sent her the gift I had made for Castalia before leaving Ar. A fanciful little dollhouse, complete with a tiny winged creature, one that was created from my mother’s bedtime stories to me.

I’m not sure why I had the sudden urge to simply give it away, except for the fact that it seemed so empty and lonely, and continually put me in my melancholy mood. I’ve already written to the man who made it, asking for another one, though I know it will not be identical to the one I gave away. I think tonight I will set aside some time to cry and feel sorry for myself, so that tomorrow I can face the day anew and put the tears behind me. I, as always, will persevere.