Watcher's Test (Life in Exile, #1)

by Sean Oswald

“No trap is so subtle as the tyranny of the mundane- the whispered lie bought and paid for which steals away the magic of each moment in exchange for a list of duties without end or purpose or thanks.”

As he held her, Emily began to cry on his shoulder. At first, her tears were quiet and barely noticeable, but then he began to feel her shudder as the waves of emotion rushed through her. This was like when her father had died. There was nothing he could do or say to make it right. In fact, it wasn’t about making it right. It couldn’t be right, not when you suffer a loss like that. He had learned back then that the best thing he could do for his wife was to just be there for her, to be present in all of the turmoil. He didn’t need to try to fix her or fix it or minimize her feelings. He needed to be a safe place for her, a sounding board for her emotions, and a rock in her storm. When he had finally stopped trying to get her to let go of her grief and had accepted her with her grief and all, it had led to an entirely new level of intimacy between them. For more than a year, they had been close and had recaptured some of the original spark, better able to share of themselves with each other.

Emily loved feeling Dave’s arms wrapped around her and allowed her walls down if only for a moment. It was good to not have to be strong, not be the wife, mother, nurse, housekeeper, launder, landscaper, chauffeur, fundraiser, tutor, chef, personal shopper, and all of the other hats that she had to wear in any given week. It was good for just a moment, to be vulnerable and to let her feelings out, to let someone take care of her rather than being the one who takes care of everyone else. As her tears came more and more freely, she relaxed little by little.

Dave wasn’t pushing her away or telling her to get it together; he was seeing her. He was giving her the moment that she needed and acting as her shelter. Slowly over ten minutes, she cried out her feelings of hopelessness, fear, and confusion. This didn’t mean that she was okay with what was happening to them, but rather that she was gearing up to face it head-on.

“Survival may not be the same as a good life, but it is a prerequisite.”

“It has been said that necessity is the mother of invention and a rogues gallery ranging from laziness to play have been considered as possible fathers but all these ideas fail to properly consider the effectiveness of imminent death as a creative force.”

“Puzzles, games for children, right? Wrong. Puzzles are training for life. A way to learn to think about how the pieces fit together, how the whole only works when each piece is doing its part. The trick is that sometimes the pieces don’t fit the way that we want them too, or worse the puzzle is so grand, so beyond our understanding that we don’t even know what it is supposed to look like. In that moment we realize that we are naught but children stumbling in our learning, seeking to find two pieces that match together and most especially for how our piece fits into the puzzle.”

Somehow, she didn’t think that potty problems would have been a part of any popular computer game.