This was another strange sentence, Tamara mused, tapping the end of her writing brush against one cheek, because, of course, it is only with a basis of comparison that one realises there is a difference.

And yes. There is a big difference.

Dipping the pen lightly with ink, she smiled at the memories which crowded her mind to have a voice, as she thought back to when she first started to notice things.

At first yes, there is amazement, an 'every fibre of your being' kind of euphoria, its all so incredible to try and wrap your head around and accept.

Then the questions, the wondering, the panic… yes, panic, there were just as many terrifying things to ask as positive ones. Even now, many of her questions were unanswered, and if she thought about them for too long, she found she developed a craving for alcohol to quieten her mind.

Not that alcohol had the same effect it did …

Tamara stopped writing and frowned. She was definitely going to have to sort some sort of chapter list, as her mind seemed to be jumping back and forth all over the place.

"Well,  no change there, I guess."  She chuckled to the paper before her, and selecting another piece she wrote :

Chapter Two - Food and Drink

That seemed to last to satisfy her swirling mind, and she again went back to writing about mortal thinking,….where was she?

Oh yes, basis of comparison…

Initial sensations aside, Tamara recalled that afterwards, she didn't 'feel' any different. Not in her mind at least. But then, she already had experienced time travel, had the Air Element pendant embedded into her right shoulder, and spent time at The Sanctuary.

She briefly considered whether to write on time travel, but a far as she knew, her journey was unique, so writing anything, apart from being a colourful tale of adventures, wasn't actually going to help anyone.

"I need coffee." She stated, and put down the brush, "Writing is hard enough, organising your head seems just as tricky."

It was during the making process Tamara had a flash of insight, as she watched her red kettle work its way to the boil. It was the same red as another she remembered from a long time ago. The detail was crisp, sharp, full of nuance, voices…such clarity of memory, and she knew for absolute certain that was NOT her mortal mind.

She used to have a terrible memory.

Faces, not names being an endless source of embarrassment when introductions were expected..

And although, like any mortal, a few recollections had remained clear, over the years many became tinged with a collective summer, or remembered through the eyes of a child.

Now she remembered EVERYTHING.
It was like having extra storage space….'roomy'…but that itself was a big difference.

Yes, she was making a coffee.

She liked coffee.

But it was the memory of coffee, because the actual ingredients, those which interacted with the mortal body, no longer had that effect. The memory was, however, almost digital, so although she knew it was an accurate reconstruction, Tamara wrote it off as 'I'm fine with that.' And had promptly stopped all thoughts on the subject and thoroughly enjoyed her drink.

The first big conscious decision was the acceptance of things. Certain things, things that were read or spoken for example, Tamara would know in an instant its inner truth. More in a kind of recognition, rather than 'has to tick all boxes' kind of way.

Acceptance of time
is the letting go of it.

There's no need to count seconds, time passes, yes, but it flows rather than going by in chopped up sections.

And yes, there is THAT day.

That day you wake up and it all hits you, pushing you into the mattress, wondering what the 'f*'…

Quickly followed by, "Crap!"

and such things as:
"OMG" and "Awesome."

Usually the last round in her often repeated sequence is :

"Bloody Hell."

How long that phase is meant to last, Tamara had no clue, but it was enough to stun a seasoned time traveller for some time, one who had already been in other realms.

She paused and almost reverently, like a fluid ritual, replaced the brush in its holder and took a breath, leaning forward to see what she had written.

"Whoever reads this, good luck. That phase totally sucks."

Tamara had in fact gone to bed the night before with this chapter forefront on her mind. She didn't really need to sleep, but sometimes it was nice. Not so much for the slumber, but more for luxuriating in the process of slowly waking up.

She had not forgotten the frantic clawing to consciousness, dragged to the present, when it was all jangling of senses by alarms, or fleeting if the day demanded it. It was a completely different experience being immortal, where the process, each wonderful stage, was enjoyed to the fullest. It was something Tamara had never been conscious of before. Little things, as they say make big differences.

Since being happy with the chapter, she had already stood up and stretched, then found herself sitting and picking up her brush one more time…

"For any who are wondering - did you try a whole heap of stuff? Like jumping off buildings?

No. I didn't.

I'm immortal, not invincible. Even from a purely mortal perspective, jumping off any great height is going to hurt on impact.

So…No. No thanks.

I did see how long I could stay awake though…

but I got bored more than tired."

Selecting a fresh sheet of paper, Tamara dipped her pen one last time to bring into being the words of her next chapter:

"Food and Drink."

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