It has become utterly typical of my mind to blend the dates and locations of my most beautiful memories, to the point that I cannot access them or remember them with perfect accuracy. Thankfully, at the very least, I can remember that they did in fact happen, and even if I can't recall exactly when or where they took place, I can always delight myself with sensitive images for which I was truly present. Such is the case of my honeymoon.

Ash and I got on a plane to Alola—Delia, Edith, and Pikachu, were to join us a week later. I had the seat by the window. We didn't sleep for a second during the lengthy flight, but the guy sitting next to Ash did. As soon as he was out we started necking, and we didn't stop until the plane landed. Our bodies were joined for the vast majority of the time we were on the air—perhaps we only should have had to pay for one of the tickets, although I still had some frequent-flyer miles to spare anyway. I commanded our interactions, taking turns between enjoying his lively lips and feasting upon his neck. While we kissed, Ash showed me how eager he was to experience me whole as he focused his barely restrained energies on what I can say with complete certainty was (is) the most expressive zone of my body. And while I made out with his neck, he took a pause and closed his eyes to try and calm the passionate entity that was to take over him soon. Many a time during our flight I had to stop his eager hand from trying to reach too much below my neck, only because I feared a righteous intrusion which—in my mind—would end with us getting kicked off the plane in midair. But that was all I did to admonish his voracious intent, as I was relentlessly feeding his feverishness with my shameless and unbridled caresses. Nobody—least of all him—tried anything to stop me. I don't know what would have happened if anybody had tried, but I'm sure that if they had, they'd have been greatly surprised by my reaction, just as much as myself.

Of course we were very impatient to reach Alola, and more importantly, the hotel. But I remember that at some point we voluntarily made our spirits calm down, as an ultimately beneficial measure to elevate the quality of our connection. More importantly our room wasn't ready yet, when we arrived.

So we were at the beach before we entered our room, having burrowed through our suitcases to produce only the most essential artifacts—swimsuits, three pieces total for the two of us, a towel, two hats, sunglasses, and sunscreen. I prepared our little place on the sand and my husband laid upon it while I went in the water. There was a sense of ceremonious expectancy, we both knew the wait would be excruciating but worth it, and yet, I jumped rather quickly into the ocean to try and calm down my boiling sense of urgency. I slowly came out of the water with a showy flair, knowing my husband was staring, and he didn't take his eyes off of me until I sat right next to him. I didn't have to modulate my sense of space around Ash any longer, I could've paraded my face all over his loins and the only reaction I would get for it would be gratitude. Ash put his hand on my back and moved his fingers softly all over the seething surface; those weren't simple caresses, he wanted me, I could tell. I then reached for a kindly kiss which was promptly revealed as a furtive concupiscent endeavor when I gave him my tongue, which was greeted enthusiastically by Ash's own. I could not bring myself to care about being seen by the many bathers around us, but we did put an end to our public display, only because of the children.

Consumed and wary of our dangerous states, we went back to our hotel and found the pool on the ground floor equally full of intrusive eyes, many of which belonged to precious children, whom we didn't dare to bother with our unrepentant splurge of sensuality. So we headed for the seventh floor, where there was supposed to be an even bigger pool which, upon sight, we were ecstatic to discover was devoid of people. We didn't know if we were supposed to be in there at that time, but we went in anyway. Ash dashed me with Olympic grade dives while I rested on a chair nearby. Then he invited me in and I promptly submerged myself, only to be cornered by him at the edge of the pool, at which point I was consumed by his entirety; I could tell he wanted all of me, and I'd give him everything I had, and I'd receive everything he had in return. It was only because there was no one else around that we decided that place would serve to cement the prurient side of our unbridled connection, for the real consummation of our love had happened long, long ago, without the need for our bodies to be close to one another; without the need for any carnality to exist at all. Even so, our connection at the pool on the seventh floor is still considered an important milestone in our relationship, the most important in our physical relationship, in fact, with good reason. Ensemble nous ferons bouillir l'eau. His fortuitous mentioning of my title as his wife made our first encounter completely satisfactory. And the rest of the day, a couple of hours, as well as the entirety of the night, were spent in complete seclusion inside our room. At some point we lost consciousness, and upon regaining it we continued our exercise and marveled as the sun showed up once again on the window, having completely lost track of time and the space outside of that entrancing love chamber. Afterwards a lovely breakfast on the pier was chiefly needed and enthusiastically welcomed, but even after all of our contact we soon grew desperate to go back to our room. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. It was only after our urges were tended to that we were able to have a peaceful, loving conversation. Then we'd have to put a pause to our chat when our bodies called one another again. Since then, his breath has regularly entered my lungs, his hands have been imprinted all over my body, his sweat has filtered through my pores, and words which he had only uttered for Her ears, have entered my mind, where they will sojourn for eternity.

During one of our breaks I went in the shower and filled the nice tub we had there with warm water and bubbles. Then I called Ash and presented myself to him on my knees, with the foam covering parts of my body only turning the situation more overwhelming. His consequent reaction has moved me to recreate that situation every once in a while (to this day).

A point was ultimately reached, where the state of our bodies made it temporarily impossible for us to continue with the intensity with which our minds and souls called of us, and yet we knew that our still ebullient spirits needed to be serviced in a similarly ferocious fashion. So we got dressed and went for a stroll around town. When we stepped outside it was nighttime, which was previously unknown to us. It was then that he and I, fully sober, stepped onstage at an open mic. Our venue, a picturesque karaoke bar for less than fifty people. Our audience, Jolly folks of all appropriate ages touched by the tumbling tongue soother. Our song, mawkish and overtly sentimental, just how I like them. We sang our hearts out to the microphone (one for the two of us, of course), to each other, and to ourselves. To me, both of our voices sounded perfectly in tune, perfectly in sync, and with the perfect volume; we were still making love right then and up there. The audience clapped and cheered and got on their feet. They enthusiastically asked for another one, they probably thought we were out of our minds, regardless, we gladly and willingly gave ourselves to them for the rest of the night. We did not need any kind of substance to raise our spirits, or to calm our minds down, we knew we had gone there to experience one another with our most conscious selves. I can guarantee that we were really good. Both of us started sweating from the first song onward. We both started swaggering and swaying all around the stage while holding on to the microphone—either Ash pulled from me or I pulled from him. Even so, at four in the morning, when they were closing the bar, someone came over to us and tried to pay us for the spectacle, perhaps the owner of the place. We didn't really refuse, we just hesitated for a few seconds, then we took the money and went to a 24-hour pokemon center and bought sodas and candy bars. Then we ate them outside (it's still the best meal I've ever had).

At some point my daughter finally arrived to me, along with my new mother-in-law, Delia, and my new brother-in-law, perhaps, Pikachu. I was dying to see them, but to a greater extent, my daughter. I missed her so much. Without Ash it would have been a supplice for me. Thank goodness he distracted me for so long. I would never let Edith go, she was from then on a part of me. As such, I missed her more than anything. I remember clearly, Edith sleeping on top of me. Myself on top of a towel on the sand, staring at the top of her head with the sea at either side of her. It was pure bliss.

I guess there's only two things that I need to add before I can consider this recollection of that period of transition into my latest life finished. One: neither Ash nor I could be considered young, on the other hand, both of us had established careers. Established enough so that any change of air wouldn't hinder our economy in any noticeable way. So, after some deliberation, it was them who graciously decided to relocate to my domains on the Kalos region, where I would be their only pillar of familiarity. But after such a self-sacrificing endeavor, they earned my full, unending gratitude, and I was dead set on being the only pillar of familiarity that they needed, at least during the acclimating period. Ash was ready to sell his childhood house in Pallet Town—what a sweet and caring man I married—however the little one and I managed to convince him that such an extreme measure wouldn't be necessary, and so we can visit Kanto, (and we do so regularly) whenever we want to. Instead, I sold my apartment on Lumiose and my late Mother's house on Vaniville Town, and with our then sizable budget we managed to get ourselves a farm just outside Coumarine City, pretty close to Lumiose. It had a big house and a big barn, which Ash didn't wait to fill with many a pokemon of many different species. I kept my two jobs (at some point the two blended into one, with the same hours, and the same delightful people working under me, making my life significantly easier), that way we had no trouble when Ash quit his own job. He was more than happy to do so—too happy, I'd say. Edith lamented when she had to go back to school, as she was more than happy prancing all over our place with her father all day, and she was forced to limit her prancing time by a few hours. It took her some time to adjust to her new school on Coumarine, but she—being the sanguine princess full of life and love that she was—managed to do so flawlessly, and once she mastered the language to perfection, she'd wake up everyday and get ready before there was any light out, and she'd kill me with laughter, just from how eager the lovely pépée was to go to school.

Yes, life was good, the grass was green and vast, and it all happened because I decided to stop being afraid of loving myself. I am completely certain of it.

And the second thing I must add before I stop: the arrival of my second and third daughters into our lives. First, it was Mandy, my youngest daughter. She was really the condensation of our love for each other. From the three of us she appeared. We had so much love to give around, we needed her. If I was forced to pick the best moment of my life, it would have to be when I saw Edith holding Mandy in her arms, and the moment immediately afterwards when Ash took the baby from her. Edith asked to get her back, but Ash didn't give Mandy back to her, he gently stroke Edith's hair with his free hand, and Edith had to conform with that. The moment wouldn't end there, it was a lovely image which I gazed from afar, sitting on my kitchen. I was drinking coffee, of course. I managed to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth, also gazing at the scene from outside. This happened in the living room. She walked in—this was just a few weeks after she moved in and became my third daughter, my oldest daughter—and she stood at the door for a few seconds with a lovely smile on her face. Then she went over to her family and kissed Mandy's forehead, then she meant to walk past them and into her bedroom, but Edith stopped her—thankfully, sweet Edith—and demanded a kiss, just like the one Elizabeth gave to their younger sister. Elizabeth smiled again, went over to Edith, knelt in front of her sister (Elizabeth is quite tall) and gave her a deep and honest kiss on the forehead. Both of them had their eyes closed. Ash turned to me with a very enthusiastic smile. I was crying, of course.

This then is my story, I've reread it. I have poured all that I have into it. I have taken from those I love, what they willingly gave to me. And I've showed it to you, as sincerely as I could. I have three daughters, a red-head, Edith, a blonde one, Mandy, and one with pitch black hair, Elizabeth, all of whom I love very much. I also love my husband, who also has black hair. And I can say, with complete certainty, that I love you just as well. Please receive my honest love. And, love, please don't forget yours.

Yours truly, Serena.