"A home does not begin with walls, but with names softly spoken."
— traditional lullaby from the Hintergrove villages
*Johanna POV*
The sun had barely begun its ascent into the sky when I awoke. Gert was on nightwatch duty last night, so I was left alone with my thoughts, and usually that's completely fine by me. But, for some reason, I feel a sense of unease.
It all started yesterday afternoon, when Rich came home from daycare. I'm not sure what happened in there - maybe it was his fear of abandonment, afraid that we'd leave him behind in daycare - but he was different. He's usually so bubbly and playful and won't let go of me no matter how much I tell him I can't play with him. He's different, for sure.
Maybe he's just growing up. But I don't want him to grow up so fast. I miss the hugs, the cuddles; the laughter and him tripping over his words. I guess he really is just growing up. Last night, he managed to open the door all by himself! Maybe we should sign him up for martial arts classes - he'll surely be great at movement techniques if he can already jump so high.
I suppose it's nothing after all. Yet why did he look so sad when he asked for water? I've never seen Rich look so... distant. He's started calling me "mum", or worse, "mother" - whatever happened to "mama"?
At least he can still laugh. His father has always managed to keep him laughing. I must be overthinking things.
It's almost time for breakfast, but I've barely got out of bed. After a couple deep breaths and stretches, I manage to pull myself out of bed and head to the kitchen, planning to make Rich's favourite. That ought to cheer him up. He'd always been big on his eggs and toast, and, recently, we've had a surplus of eggs in the village, so he'd better look forward to an eggy diet for the next couple days.
Not that it'd be repetitive or boring. I don't want to brag, but my cooking skills are out of the world. Once, at university, I won the annual herbology cooking competition, where we used spiritual and medicinal herbs to craft a Qi-enriched meal for the Saintess of the Adlerheim Clan. If I hadn't dropped out, I'm sure I could have been a world-renowned spiritual chef. No regrets, though, as nothing could compare to life in the village with Gertie and Rich.
"Richie! It's time for breakfast," I shout, barging into his room. Waking him up was always difficult - my sweet baby just loved to sleep. You know, after he was born, we'd be constantly going to the doctors to see if there was something wrong with him, only to be told we had a perfectly healthy baby who just really enjoyed sleeping. He'd sleep for days at a time, waking up for five minutes at a time to feed, but that was all he'd do. Really, he's still the same Richard.
He was already up. He stood by his window, staring out into the village, the sun beaming on his face. He didn't notice me in the room at all. How long had he been there? Oh, I'm overthinking again.
"Come on, Rich, I made your favourite."
***
During breakfast, the sparkle in his eyes immediately came back to life. As expected, I know my son well. He may be growing fast, but he's still the same Rich, with an insatiable appetite for eggs.
Last night, Gert and I decided to take him to work with us over the weekend. Rich hadn't really made any close friends at daycare, so we didn't have a play buddy for him to stay with, and we couldn't just leave the boy at home all by himself. Goodness knows he'd burn the house down or something. Thankfully, after I told Rich that he'd be accompanying me at work, he seemed really excited. You'd think he had never visited the farm the way he reacted.
After finishing up and tidying the table, I grab him in my arms and begin running to the farm. I really ought to get a bicycle for Rich - he's getting rather big now and I can tell he now feels awkward in my arms, but it's not like he'd be able to walk to the spirit garden all by himself. Occasionally, I speed up, hearing him cry for release or for me to slow down. He's so cute.
***
"Alright, here we are Rich. Now, be careful - I don't want you tripping over the roots. And don't trample any of the Mossleaf. It's really expensive!"
I honestly don't know what to do with him here. He's old enough to not eat the dirt, but he must be so bored. I suppose I'll try to finish the garden work and pick the mature plants as quickly as possible so that he can play around in the shop.
"Mum, what's that plant called? And this one and this one and this one."
I can't control that grin escaping my mouth. He's just like his mother isn't he.
***
After a tiring day teaching my son all about the plants I grow, it's time to open the shop. I wish we could have spent more time together on the garden. Children really are curious aren't they. It felt like I had turned into my previous lecturers. And the way he'd sneeze when I'd put leaves up to his nose. How cute! I just want to eat him up!
I place Rich on the till, letting him sit there like a little mascot for my shop, and, soon enough, we have our first customer: Elisabeth.