Seaside Moors The present tense of regret is indecision

Perhaps it was by choice—without sight in the womb and then, too, beyond birth, she was not eager to gain it. In keeping with familiarity, she was comfortable. Comfortable to be blind to the world around her, to the faces of the Life-Giver and the other creature that often wriggled at her side. By wanting it so much, she was able to keep the development at bay—but it was not a permanent loss, something she discovered just as the first rays of the morning light were beginning to peer through the den’s mouth.

Blinking—that was new—awake, she turned her head towards the source and stared, as best she could; everything was still so blurry, a mesh of lights and shadows. This development was not necessarily understood, perceived as a mere dream, like so many others that occupied her time whilst she lazed against her mother. Yet, she began to coo curiously at the sunlight anyways, whining and grumbling at it—what was it, anyway?