Daisy II | Levi Ackerman

Interlude

Peace. It felt like all she had ever wanted, all she had ever hoped to arrive; and at the same time it felt like all she's ever known.

All around was silence, the kind that calms you down, the kind that feels unreal.

And then there it was, the soft caress of a morning breeze, the slight dampness of a lakeside reverie against her cheek and her bare arms. Her eyes were closed but it wasn't dark at all, them being shut merely half-shrouded the rosy sunlight.

Soon enough she became aware of a silky voice, so sweet, so quiet, and caring fingers brushing lightly on her hair. She was hugging this figure of serenade from the side, whomever that voice belonged to, and it was haven being right there under the cozy fold of her arm.

She was singing to her, a lullaby she'd always seem to know. Her heart welled up in longing. Why had she been longing, when this seemed like something she's had forever?

Naomi opened her eyes, adjusting to the comforting sight and sensation of this more than familiar woman; her gentle heartbeat on her ear and the wisps of her blonde hair dancing in the wind. Her bright blue eyes, the gleeful blush on her cheeks, the way she could bring even the most troubled of souls to tranquility just by offering them her smile.

"Mom," Naomi whispered, her head pressed over Adela's shoulder. Adela looked away from her graphic book about oceans and seas and down at her daughter, giving her a kiss on her bruised forehead.

"My daisy dove." She replied. The pang in Naomi's heart said that she had always yearned for this closeness with her mother again, but she could not grasp another period in her past far away from this moment in the present.

Who had she been? She knows her name, and she knows her mother, and she knows this place. This is the Lake, her Aunt Celine's favorite spot in the world, which soon became the most intimate spot their family had. They created so many lovely, remarkable memories in it, Naomi was sure. But before this instance, sitting under the shade of the bending willow tree, she couldn't make out any memories.

Even more so, there was this vague sense of discomfort in her. Like all she wanted was to rest. For some reason, her bones were sore and her muscles were at the remnants of ache which implied that she had gone through something strenuous and painful. But if she had, then why was she here with her mother in leisure all of a sudden?

Besides this, it also felt like she left something behind. Like she left someone behind. This sense that some important matter was left unresolved, she always suffered in it. And the thought that the person seemed so extremely loved to her gave her strange waves of heartache.

She was missing someone she couldn't even remember.

"Have you had a good sleep, my darling?" Adela asked. "You ought to rest well after everything you've been through."

"I feel awfully tired mom," Naomi told her. "Like I'd been fighting the longest fight ever. Why do I feel tired still?"

"Because you have been fighting, Naomi." Her mom replied earnestly. "For twenty-two, long, trudging years."

"I'm still young then," She remarked, furrowing her eyebrows in fluster. "But why is it that I can't remember anything?"

And why is it that not remembering anything seemed such a familiar feeling? Like Naomi was back to ground one- and she had been here before- at a loss for any remnant of her own history.

"You can't remember anything?" Adela echoed in the same confusion. Naomi shook her head cluelessly.

"Then you can't meet Grandpa yet," Her mom concluded with surprise, laying back. "You're supposed to tell him your stories, remember? How can you do that with no memories?"