Chapter 2 : Heaven on earth.
.
.
.
My first days as an infant were a blur.
Quite literally, since my eyes had yet to fully develop. I mercifully could not remember my actual birth. It was as if one second I was in the cold clutches of darkness and the next I found myself in the warm embrace of my new mother.
When I first saw her, her blurred face reflexively made me want to look for my glasses. Until I realized that whether I had glasses or not, the blurred figure smiling at me is either a giant or I'm around the size of a chihuahua.
When I heard the 'baby talk' voice in a language I vaguely recognized as Japanese I knew what I had become. And boy was that a shock.
Existential crisis is the least of what I went through to accept my new role in the universe. The fact that I had not only died, (brutally might I add) but was also reborn as a baby was not an easy pill to swallow. And the proverbial cherry on top is that I died as an adult woman and was reborn as a baby boy. I really hit the jackpot with this one.
But life gave me lemons so what else to do but to make lemon juice or whatever.
(I've never fucking liked lemons…)
I had a new life and I'd always hated wasting food, so I had no choice but to start anew and live to the fullest.
Being in a different country, having new parents and a different gender definitely helped. Whether it helped me move on from my past life or resent whatever higher power did this to me still wasn't clear thought.
On the brighter side, my new parents were kind and caring, they doted on me and showered me with love until I was drowning in the crippling guilt of the murder my existence had caused.
(…so much for a brighter side.)
I knew that it wasn't really my fault that I was reincarnated into their child. I never asked for this. But the fact still remained that their baby left so that I could take his place. The guilt just wouldn't go away so I found new, maybe odd, ways to cope.
I decided to be the best baby to ever baby.
I held on whenever a finger was offered, I laughed every time I saw their faces, I made silly grimaces, I babbled cutely when I heard them talk, I didn't bite them or cry while I was teething even when that shit HURT and I even slept (or pretended to sleep) full nights without waking them up, I only cried for food and diaper changes. Not gonna lie, I was very proud of my accomplishments.
Once my eyes developed enough that I could see clearly I crossed my fingers and prayed I would inherit even an inkling of resemblance to my mother because- holy cow she was beautiful.
She had white porcelain skin and her dark long hair was silky smooth to the touch, she had big pale blue eyes that reminded me of the sky and a warm smile that could melt ice.
My first word was 'mama' and the grin she sent my way could've lit up the whole fucking universe.
My father was honestly lucky my mother chose to marry his ass. He was a good guy with a good laugh, even better hugs and the whole 'cute guy next door' look going for him, I loved the guy, but my bond with my mother was just…more
I mean, baby instincts were nothing to scoff at, from the moment my mother held me against her chest I felt affection and love for the woman, her being a literal angel on earth just made these instincts harder to ignore.
She was one of those people who were just too pure for this world, with boundless kindness and a heart of gold, so I easily accepted myself as a mama's girl.
With the amount of time I spent with my new parents it was no surprise how much I grew attached to them.
Our little home was always warm, it often snowed outside so we always had a fire burning. The snow was probably my second favorite thing to look at (my parents' smiles being the first).
They didn't take me out since I was still too young for town trips, but the snow-covered world I saw out of our windows looked like magic to me.
I had never seen fresh snow in my past life, only days old ice that was too hardened to play with so I'd promised myself that as soon as I could play outside I'd build snowmen and make snow angels to my heart's content. But for my toddler phase I contented myself with my mother's sweet singing and my father's warm hugs.
He really was too good at giving hugs.
They made for great parents, I never got bored even when it was just the three of us. Mom cared for me and praised me for the littlest of things, while dad found amusement in playing with me, his laugh chasing away the darkness in the back of my mind.
It was just the three of us in our warm little house and it was heaven on earth. So of course it all had to go to shit at some point.
.
.
.