"Who am I?"
Life asked.
Life, not the one that became aware of itself, no. The one that just appeared in the world, like a child who doesn't know how to walk. Not even crawl.
The one who hasn't yet learned to live.
"Who am I?" she asked again.
Asked as if looking straight at me, as if only waiting for an answer, as if I was the one obligated to cut through this question like a knot.
"I don't know who you are," I answered. "And it's not for me to tell you. Ask yourself, yourself alone. This is the only way."
In the end... I understood. As a teacher I'm worthless. Only by becoming aware of yourself can you answer another who stands in the same position you yourself stood just a moment ago.
Time is needed. I repeated to myself, time is needed. Time to understand yourself. Time to become aware of your own "I."
And thus began the life of the one who decided to birth a beginning. A beginning in an empty world that awaited its flourishing.
She was like a child. Innocent, just learned to walk and still stumbling over her own feet.
"Can it be the careless child doesn't know she should watch where she steps?" I asked, turning my gaze away. Eyes wandered, as if seeking an answer where it obviously wasn't.
"Papa!" a joyful cry, she came running. "What are you thinking about?"
"How did you know? Is it visible that I'm pondering?"
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised. My face betrayed me, the face always betrays. The face is an expression of emotions, thoughts, that which is pointless to hide.
"What do you think life is?"
The question sounded as selfish as asking the blind to look. Of course she didn't understand. Of course her eyes said: "What do you mean?"
"No, papa, I don't know at all, what is it?" her enthusiasm outweighed my persistence.
"And you? Who are you now? Aren't you life?"
"Ooh! That's too hard!" she responded, puffing her cheeks. "Stop asking such questions!"
Wrong.
I understood, too wrong. This approach doesn't work. Only by fully understanding yourself can you explain to another what it means to exist.
Teaching life is a difficult occupation. Especially for me, such an inept "teacher." Especially with such a persistent student who clings, as if I am the answer.
Days passed. Time began only when she took her first step. Space moved, expanded, began to grow.
And she grew with it, the first life. The one I created, the one who became my half.
No, I wasn't her teacher, closer, much closer. Probably that's why she always called me "papa."
A word.
A word whose meaning I don't understand. A word driven into the soul, but the meaning escapes. It seems important, because every time she pronounces it, the heart rejoices.
The world is full of things whose meaning I haven't yet grasped, and without grasping meaning, you won't know value either.
Seven days. Seven days passed after her appearance, and I observed her becoming. Of body, of personality, of her own "I."
"Papa! I finally understood who I am!" she exclaimed joyfully, sitting on my lap.
"Hmm. And who are you?"
"I'm your daughter! Hee-hee-hee!"
The body grows each day, but the smile is the same. A bit more will pass, and she won't fit on my lap anymore.
I don't want that.
Only with her growing up did I understand: life always strives toward death.
I don't want that.
I drew a conclusion, if life disappears, it at least shouldn't disappear in vain. Or let it strive toward infinity, then death too will infinitely strive after it.
Life is meaningless without what's dear to you.
And here is her hand, warm, as if deciding to warm me in the coldest moment.
"Papa, you are what I treasure. I don't want to lose you..."
Silence, like a calmed ocean after a storm.
Silence not because this is possible. Silence because I understood: separation is inevitable.
"Of course, I'm your father. And a father cannot abandon his child. Ha-ha..."
Three years. Three years passed.
For someone this is a moment, for someone eternity. And for someone — nothing.
"My, how beautiful she's grown... Daddy!"
Laughter.
A smirk.
An unexpected guest, the one who's never expected but always comes.
"And who are you?"
A question like surprise. Like a sign of an open door.
"Pleased to meet you. This is our first meeting. My name is..."
Avaley Le Fay.