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completedcircle.insanejournal.com) wrote in
darker_london2014-02-23 12:51 pm
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Entry tags:
memories - darla
She touched the pages gently, leafing through photographs and occasionally stopping to rearrange them in the correct order. A photograph album was certainly old-fashioned, but there were some aspects of the past that Darla adored too much. She had several; countless volumes from her days as a baby and more chronicling her and her siblings as they grew up. Darla, Rajah, Raewyn and Kian. She was three years older than the twins and two older than Rajah, happy to fall into the role of big sister. She turned a page, spotting one of herself at almost four years old. Arms tight around Rajah, little difference from now. Sometimes she found it difficult to stop trying to protect her. But how much of a false face were the photographs? She found some of her at seventeen, all smiles at Rajah’s fifteenth birthday party. Had she known then that her younger sister was cracking, losing her grip and going through the worst times of her life? Darla had always supposed, always expected. It was probably why she was so protective, even pushy when she forgot to be gentle. She’d learned about depression, tried so hard to be there for her. It was difficult, now that she was married and always busy with work, but the important people in her life knew that they were always second to Rajah. Rajah’s calls were always taken, no matter where in the world she was. Even Isandro would sometimes be told that she loved him but needed sleep. “Tell my husband I love him,” she said at the end of the most recent call, and even through her sleepy and muted tone Darla sounded amused. She turned another page, placing down one of the happiest photos. Some of the earlier ones were smiles that covered sadness, that covered secrets and lies and sorrows. Rajah’s smile, in her maid of honour gown, was a genuine one. They’d been that way for a while, but Darla’s memories of her wedding day were not just of her own happiness but of everyone’s. Even Kian, who Darla found it difficult to forgive. The day had been the dizzying kind of happy, triumphant and full of smiles and love… so easy to forget grudges and hurt. Darla had kept one of the flowers from her wedding bouquet pressed in that page of the photograph album. And then there was work. No time for thinking or reflection. Darla had achieved some minor success and was now close to major success as an actress. The stage, she’d assured her family, would always be her first love. Perhaps one day she could return to it. But, in truth, her family was her first love and always would be. |