(no subject)
Sitting at the table eating breakfast was not an unfamiliar situation, but even so, Lucas could feel that something was off.
There was an omelet on the plate in front of him and a glass of orange juice. It was autumn but there was a warmth in the nearby kitchen.
"Lucas, honey, eat up or it will get cold," Hinawa said.
Before his brain could even register what happened, he was enveloped by his mother's embrace. His small knuckles were turning white and shaking.
Her dress is soft, red, and smells like clean linen, sunflowers, and yeast. Her hands, stronger than he remembered, have a cracking second skin of flour and drying dough.
"I still miss you," Lucas finally said.
"I know," Hinawa told him. "And I miss you, too."
"Is that all right?"
"Of course it is. But that doesn't mean you stop being you, right?"
Lucas nodded against his mother's chest. He couldn't remember if he got that tall before he was 10 or not.
"You're very brave," Hinawa said.
"No'm not," Lucas said, shaking his head. "Nowhere near brave like Claus."
His mother took his face in her hands. He pressed his hands onto hers.
"Lucas, brave and daring are not the same thing," she told him. "Brave means doing what you know is right, even when you're scared. Brave means doing hard things but still being you. Do you understand?"
"I think so..."
Hinawa gave him a kiss on his forehead.
"You'll be safe when you go back," she said. "There's a haystack waiting for you there."
"Well, that's a relief..."
She runs her fingers through Lucas's hair.
"Now, what have I missed since you last came to visit?"
They sat together in the warm kitchen, cuddled close, watching the bread bake in the oven while Lucas recounted finding the Hummingbird Egg, infiltrating the Pigmask Army, and climbing up the Thunder Tower.
He was even murmuring to himself as he slowly woke up.
There was an omelet on the plate in front of him and a glass of orange juice. It was autumn but there was a warmth in the nearby kitchen.
"Lucas, honey, eat up or it will get cold," Hinawa said.
Before his brain could even register what happened, he was enveloped by his mother's embrace. His small knuckles were turning white and shaking.
Her dress is soft, red, and smells like clean linen, sunflowers, and yeast. Her hands, stronger than he remembered, have a cracking second skin of flour and drying dough.
"I still miss you," Lucas finally said.
"I know," Hinawa told him. "And I miss you, too."
"Is that all right?"
"Of course it is. But that doesn't mean you stop being you, right?"
Lucas nodded against his mother's chest. He couldn't remember if he got that tall before he was 10 or not.
"You're very brave," Hinawa said.
"No'm not," Lucas said, shaking his head. "Nowhere near brave like Claus."
His mother took his face in her hands. He pressed his hands onto hers.
"Lucas, brave and daring are not the same thing," she told him. "Brave means doing what you know is right, even when you're scared. Brave means doing hard things but still being you. Do you understand?"
"I think so..."
Hinawa gave him a kiss on his forehead.
"You'll be safe when you go back," she said. "There's a haystack waiting for you there."
"Well, that's a relief..."
She runs her fingers through Lucas's hair.
"Now, what have I missed since you last came to visit?"
They sat together in the warm kitchen, cuddled close, watching the bread bake in the oven while Lucas recounted finding the Hummingbird Egg, infiltrating the Pigmask Army, and climbing up the Thunder Tower.
He was even murmuring to himself as he slowly woke up.