In Our Hearts Rest The Spirits

Being out of the ordinary gives gaiety, individuality, and idleness to some but to Rhea, it gave melancholy and out of sorts commiseration. She had no ménage except for a solicitous father who never in the whole wide world had viewed his only fledgling to be crippled. Hitherto, he forced himself to crop up as a very ardent of a father and did his utmost nonpareil to enrapture his sad daughter. Whether he succeeded or failed remains a mystery until the very culmination of the story. Evenings were a secluded joy to Rhea, she would deposit herself near the banks of a free-flowing river and would think. Think arduously, how she could cease being an obligation to her deprived father. How she could help, by not having both her hands. How she could brush aside criticisms of people and, how she could get to her Raison de'être. However diversified her thoughts were, they always ended the same way; by her crying and exclaiming, "Oh! Why am I such a burden? Oh! Why don't I begone!" Her father would hear this implore of agony and would be agonized himself, so one dead of night, when the trees stood still, for no wind suspired. When the moon glowed dazzlingly of all, for there was no other source of light; a father fondled a disturbed daughter, trying to put her to sleep. With every whimper, he stroked her feeble head. With every hiccup, he rubbed her frail back.

With every sough, he shooed her deliberately, and whilst putting his sweetheart daughter to sleep he whispered in her ears, "You may not have your graceful hands, but you have a vast brain. Take no notice of the people and their harsh words and stay strong!" With these solacing words, Rhea fell soundly asleep, knowing herself no more of a tribulation. The next day dawned crisp and clear, and Rhea as well aroused with a twinkling face and started right away running errands she was fitting for. People didn't cease launching dictatorial words at her, but this time, she ignored their criticism. She operated harder towards her Raison de'être and pushed odiousness aside. All of a sudden, Rhea had modified anew, all in view of the fact of those uplifting words of her father. However, too much happiness in the world is misproportionate, and something bad needs to happen to keep it at a level. As sudden as simile, the father's pure heart stopped beating. The world was all mopery now. Rhea's only stimulation, her only loving home had left her, disowned and despondent. How would she abide by the criticizing now? How would she work swimmingly now? How would she progress to her Raison de'être now? These abstractions swam in Rhea's head in her dire strait of angst. She had no outlook whatsoever of how she would undertake life without her father beside her, yet as days elapsed, Rhea found herself working effortlessly and doing all the things she had feared she couldn't anymore. Withal, she didn't know how she did it, and the answer to her upright question was found on the same banks of the same free-flowing river. As she rested on the bedewy ground looking at the pleasant river, from deep core she heard a familiar voice, that of her father, "You may not have your graceful hands, but you have a vast brain. Take no notice of the people and their harsh words, and stay strong!" Rhea wasn't slow in comprehending this eccentric feeling, she understood now that after her father died, she could nevertheless function; because her father hadn't evacuated her completely, he still resided in her heart!