Chapter Text
You are five, the afternoon sun lingering on your skin as you watch the sun slowly descend beyond the tall stunning mountains that protected the encanto. Secretly, you wished your own mountains would be as stunning as that someday. For now, you were quite content with your own abode.
It was always filled with color, decorated by small pictures of your family and paintings, accompanied by animal figurines made of wood. Your home that was made for your family where the kitchen and living room was divided by colorful and beautiful quilt curtains.
From the day you first opened your eyes, it was all you’ve seen. Watching and observing the outside through the window in your living room. It was somewhat entertaining, sometimes a lot happened in a day. A new home would be built, and both arguments and forgiveness would happen right after the next, or even all at once! It was like a telenovela, your mother described.
Sometimes the weather would change so easily in ways the books never describe it as. Like pure emotions controlled nature, or simply mother nature having her own episodes. You wished you could see more than sunshine and rain, though. It was one of your delightful memories when it had hailed. Albeit it only lasted for about five seconds, but it made you happy to see something you haven't, nonetheless.
But when you weren't watching the outside, you would be spoiled that was akin to a statue in a museum, displayed within a glass container. You would get new clothes every three weeks, clay toys and get new books that would appear in your room. It certainly felt nice. But with only few to do with much time, you couldn't help but feel like you were wasting your breath doing nothing useful. It was when you could hear the scrape of wood from your father's room with papers in his hand, the sizzling from the kitchen, or the newly made clothing folded and placed in a basket, you felt like nothing more than someone who was conditioned to be nothing and stay put in their confines. You wanted to do activities like learning how to stitch, or to carve small figures from wood, garden, draw, anything. Something unfamiliar.
At some point, you had asked your parents if you could try doing what they always did at home. They only left you with chuckles and a question to take your thoughts elsewhere (you never did realize it, though).
But maybe it was because you were five, and not older. Your sister was seventeen, your mother and father forty. It makes sense. You just weren't wise enough, experienced enough like them. You just needed to wait until time would give you those things. What does a five year old know anything about wisdom or experience anyway? A five year old. Huh. You would laugh at yourself if you knew what it meant.
"Hija, get dressed, I already prepared clothes in your room. We're going to a special ceremony."
Your eyes would follow your mother disappear back into the bigger room of the house, book now closed shut and clutched in your hand. You slide off the couch smoothly, clothed feet softly landing on the clean wooden floors. You pass the kitchen, and your father's work area. You could hear him carving wood again, the patterns different. Quicker. You could tell because from the small crack the door provided for you, the bandaids wrapped his fingers and hands, yet this man was the most careful and precise person you know.
(The only one.)
You're in the hallway now, passing by your parent's room, your sister's and the guest room. A ceremony? Then there's the last door, your door. Nothing special about it apart from it being the last one. Which doesn't make it special at all, actually. Turning the knob and waltzing in, you instantly notice the aforementioned dress carefully placed on your bed, socks neatly laying next to it. Ceremony... You stretch your arm, going on the tips of your toes to place the book on your night stand before walking back to the side of your bed where the clothing resided. The dress was fitted just for you, lovingly made by, possibly, your sister. Possibly, because you knew she made dresses, and because you knew she didn't like you as much as she tried to. But regardless, the dress is white and has beautiful blue accents, the material soft.
"That's quite pretty, what's the special occasion?"
You look to the source of the voice, your eyes revealing a familiar face. Of course, it was Rosa. You met her about two or three months ago. Or rather, she started appearing around two or three months ago. She was someone who looked old, older than your sister but younger than your parents. She always wore a kind expression and a pretty dress that had flowers embroidered, blooming from the bottom. Just as pretty as her, fitting. Her hair was braided in a loose plait, bangs comfortably resting just below her eyebrows. Her hair always seemed bouncy and soft, you wondered if your hair looked the same. A faint light green glow traced her, just how it usually did.
"It's a ceremony." You didn't know if that was you responding or having a realization as your hand mindlessly felt the corner of the dress.
"I see, aren't you excited about it?" She walked closer to you, glancing at the dress before turning back to you.
"Well, I don't even know what it's for. Maybe it's just another dumb funeral because my sister killed her fish." Yet you knew she didn't get another.
You could see Rosa's face look at you with sympathy. A part of your face feels cold (did someone open your windows?) "Aw, don't say that, pequeña. Your sister loved that fish, so much that she even named it." You giggle, and Rosa smiles at you with eyes that hold so much love and warmth.
(A breeze.)
It would remind of the first time you saw her, sobbing and snot-faced when you had accidentally cut your finger. Being so closed in and protected, you rarely got hurt. So when you did, you felt immeasurable pain to the smallest injuries. You remembered gawking at your open wound, the red ink slowly making its way to make your hand filthy. You stared at it, realizing that no one was home. You panicked, not knowing what to do. Tears easily fell down your cheeks like a waterfall, and shaky deep breaths only intensified the situation for you. It felt like the end of the world, the world closing in on you. You'd point and laugh at yourself if you could.
It was until Rosa appeared while you were in your messy state, she looked at you with so much emotion and yet chose to show a little bit of it. A smile was on her face as she tried to comfort you, leading you to the bathroom. If you were any more out of your mind, you would have thought she was an angel sent from above like in the books, where they protect and guide people when they were in despair.
Maybe you were in despair. Well, more like in pain, but it felt like a mix of both to you at the time.
(You feel a chill on your arm.)
You sigh, "I'm gonna change now, but can I see you at the ceremony?"
"I'll try, pequeña."
***
Your mother stood by the door, walking over in her own dress, colorful shades of blue layering the clothing. She crouches carefully and gently clips a clip into your hair. You raise your arm to feel your head, trying to find it, "Mama, what is that?"
She stands back up slowly, wearing a soft smile, yet her eyes don't hold the same sentiment. Maybe she's just a little stressed like before. "A hair clip to make my little princesa elegant." She steps away from you, glancing before heading towards your sister's room, "I'm going to get your papa and hermana. Stay here, okay?"
You nod despite her not looking at you anymore, feeling the grooves of the clip before your arm got tired. You doubted it looked elegant, things that were elegant didn't wear little clips on their head or stood waiting by the door. Things that were elegant are dances, music, wearing large flowing dresses, simple jewelry and performances like in the books. You wore, and did none. You didn't dance, play music or did any type of performance, you were just- you. Little you, standing by the door itching to open it and feel the fresh air for once. Little you intently staring at the window next to the door watching people leave their homes as the sky was painted in orange sherbet from the small little hill your house was built on.
Other people could be elegant- are elegant, in fact. You watched it from the window. How they would walk and talk. Even if something bad happened, like how they would cry or trip, they would pass by your house the following day or the same day fine. Elegant. Simple. That's how you should be. It's what you want to be.
But you weren't simple. What about you was simple? You were being complicated in your own head right now, you think. Your thoughts don't even make sense, you're just going around in tangents wasting your time because of a ceremony. You wince mentally, maybe you shouldn't say that, it was dubbed a special ceremony. You didn't want to be rude, even if no one knew. Maybe it's a birthday, or just a random celebration! Or even a wedding. You've never been to those before, merely experiencing them through text.
(Exciting?)
There was so much you hadn't seen that only books could make you feel like you have. You would remember watching the sky drop icy balls those years back and wonder what it felt like. It would be cold, and probably feel like cold pebbles on skin. But you couldn't feel any of those, because you weren't allowed outside. Until today. For a ceremony. One you didn't know would happen today.
(The top of your head feels a little cold.)
You turned around, seeing your father now in the living room carrying a small colorful box, next to him was your mother who was wiping off invisible dust on his shoulder. Coming from behind them was your older sister, wearing a dress you've never seen her wear before. Maybe she created it herself.
She noticed you and smiled, but you don't miss the little strain. But despite it, you smile back, even adding a little wave. She's a good sister, you think, she's never bothered you. In fact, you barely remember talking to her. Only one or two words whenever it was dinner.
Your parents are closer to you now, and you step out of the way from the door, now next to your sister who is playing with the bracelet on her wrist. You didn't even know she had such an item. Your mother turns to look at you, a worried expression shown on her face, it wasn't subtle. You were confused, but you gave her a small smile as your father opened the door with the box in his other hand. You don't get to see her reaction.
You were the last to step outside, hearing your father close the door behind you. Your mother and your sister are already walking ahead, down the small hill.
You never would've thought that the books you read were underselling about how nice the air smelled.