How to Capture the Sun

She stands on the back of her horse, reaching toward the beam of light. If only she can gather it into her arms and carry it with her. If only she can find some way to distill it and make it hers. If only she can keep it forever tied around her neck.

The sun brings warmth, but not for her. Its rays slant through the forest as she reaches for them. She reaches up, reflecting the rays of light with mirrors and trying to catch them with wires. It is the warmth she needs, the warmth she desires. Her heart was once a star shining brighter than the sun, but it exploded, casting off its outer layers and falling in on itself. It fell in and trapped her. She fell that day. She fell and lay locked inside the prison that surrounded her, locked in the black hole of her heart. She knows there must be a way out.

So she reaches for the sun. Her horse looks back at her, “What are you doing up there?” he asks with his eyes. The trees see the words waft through the air, the mist of his thoughts condense on her face as she ignores him, focusing only on that beam of light that is just out of her reach. If only she could get a little higher, if only her tip toes could carry her there. And then it is gone.

Gone as the day her world crumbled. Gone as her hopes. Gone as the dreams she once had.

But she remembers her dreams still. She remembers them and holds onto their memory. She clings to the thoughts that once graced her sleep and strains her ears to catch the half-remembered melody.

The horse carries her through the forest once more. He carries her to her cottage in the woods and she slides off. She enters the dark house and finds supper. She moves around in the darkness, the light of the candle failing to penetrate her soul, the heat of the fire failing to penetrate her skin.

She pulls the blankets around her and shivers. Now that the sun is gone, every hope of a warmer tomorrow has vanished. Tomorrow she will ride forth once again. She will ride out and search for the sun. She will search for the sun and try to capture it. She will try to gather it up in her arms and bring it home with her.

She used to have friends. When they were young they ran and played together. When they were older they studied together, they sewed together, they learned to bake together. The smoke and laughter rose from her chimney together, but now it is silent. The smoke still rises, but it is silent. The light evades her house, and darkness follows her as she rides out in the day.

“The light is coming,” the messengers shouted through the village.

But she didn't hear. Their voices couldn't reach her in the cottage, their hearts could not convey the meaning of their words. Instead, she sat trapped in the darkness, pulling a blanket around her in an effort to contain her body heat, but it evaporated anyway. The summer night rose around her, but it brought no heat.

Day after day she set out to catch the sun. Night after night she returned home without it. She entered her cottage colder than she left, the very memory of light fading from her dreams.

***

“How did you find me?” she asked the lynx years later, “How did you know what I was looking for? How did you know I was dying?”

“I watched you every day,” the lynx replied, “Every day I saw you leave your cottage and I resolved to give you the gift, but every day I met with the opposition. The opposition confronted me and I battled them. The scars you see through my fur are marks of our battles, my ear is torn, my claws are worn to nothing, but I fought on. Just as you refused to surrender your search, I refused to surrender my quest. So I brought you this. I brought you the pearl of the sun to wear close to your heart. It will keep you warm. It will give light to your soul.”