Water is a mirror, reflecting our strengths and weaknesses, our hopes and fears.
It's the complete opposite of her own instincts, but Elizabeth wouldn't be a therapist if she couldn't understand other people's points of view. She nods her head, accepting his reasoning without judgement or debate. "I get that. Knowledge can sometimes be a burden, whether we recognize it or not at the time." Secrets or important information can drag and dampen, the responsibility too heavy to go unnoticed for long. It's why she adds quietly, a more gentle playfulness in her tone as she tilts her head. "But, if you do ever find the secrets to the world, do you promise to tell someone just so you don't have to carry it alone?" She raises a nagging brow, promising that he'll get an earful if he doesn't.
Elizabeth listens quietly as the topic turns to his parents, to the carrying of histories that weren't his to begin with. There's a calm peace she offers, a warmth that curls through the autumn leaves still piled high in her eyes. "Just because you don't follow in their footsteps doesn't mean they didn't matter. You're proof of the impact they had." Him sharing their memories, his character, his willingness to continue their legacy.
She doesn't ask or think too long on what he might have found to protect, not wanting to spark any of those lingering feelings. Instead, Elizabeth focuses on the general application of it, a soft smile across her lips. "And that's really all that matters, isn't it?" She shifts her arms enough to tuck her hair then fold her arm against the side of her head like a pillow. "If you have something you care about - something that gives your life meaning - you have an obligation to protect it, for yourself as much as them."
Elizabeth listens quietly as the topic turns to his parents, to the carrying of histories that weren't his to begin with. There's a calm peace she offers, a warmth that curls through the autumn leaves still piled high in her eyes. "Just because you don't follow in their footsteps doesn't mean they didn't matter. You're proof of the impact they had." Him sharing their memories, his character, his willingness to continue their legacy.
She doesn't ask or think too long on what he might have found to protect, not wanting to spark any of those lingering feelings. Instead, Elizabeth focuses on the general application of it, a soft smile across her lips. "And that's really all that matters, isn't it?" She shifts her arms enough to tuck her hair then fold her arm against the side of her head like a pillow. "If you have something you care about - something that gives your life meaning - you have an obligation to protect it, for yourself as much as them."
Elizabeth
