No Room to Complain

It was their culture, it could not be changed...but it did not make Iztaccihuatl feel better.

She sat on the steps of the small sanctuary built on the side of her mountain. It was beautiful and there was always the most beautiful flowers decorating it. 

It always made her feel better, sitting on the steps of her sanctuary, the perfect spot to see the rest of the world and the stars. 
She was so close to the heavens, a place that she was so close to yet she could never reach. Her hand stretched up to the stars, and she saw them twinkle and she knew that Chalchiuhtlicue was given her the slightest show of comfort. 

Her God and Goddess watched over them and never left them alone, but it wasn’t only her that belonged to them. No, he belong to them….and ‘she’ belong to them as well. 

She would like to think that she was more loved than the others, but she didn’t think it was true. She was not enough…not when compared to her. 

Matlalcueye. 

Popocatepetl was with her now, because when he wasn’t with Izaccihuatl, he was with Matlalcueye. She had no prove, but Matlalcueye was beautiful and she knew that Popocatepetl was able to be with her. 

Did she expect him to stick by her side only? Perhaps she had at one point, before she met him, had thought about being her love’s only one. She grew out of it when she learned who the rest of the women that accompanied her parents were. 

She had no right to be angry, or to be hurt. Iztaccihuatl remembers her mother, and how she never said anything about the other women. 
They were all a family,weaving together, dancing together, bathing together. 

The other women were not the wife, only her mother had the power and it made everything fine. 

Iztaccihuatl had no power. She was stuck on her mountain, to stare at the rabbit on the moon. 
Matlalcueye and her did not weave together, or bathe together or did anything together. They only had glimpses of the there on festival days. 

Was she the wife or the other woman?