It looks like a dream, but it’s too clear, and too real, to be a dream. I see through my own perspective. Looking down, I’m in the body of a 4 year old child, in a small house that I don’t recognize.
“Jasara! Dinner’s ready! Come to the kitchen, honey!” I hear a woman’s voice call from across the house.
I walk towards it, into a humble kitchen with a small round dining table. It’s the woman from the vision I had when Kael was uprooting my memories. The one who was crying, who we assumed was my mother. I think we assumed correctly.
She smiles at me fondly. “I made your favorite. Pancakes and strawberries!”
My mouth automatically speaks for me. “Wow! Pancakes for dinner? You're the best, mommy! I love you!”
Her smile grows wider, and she gives me a kiss on my small child-sized head.
“M
