I spent my early years relearning how to do everything. I knew how to do the things a baby was required to do, but practicing them in a new body was a whole different thing. I started by babbling all the time. They couldn’t shut me up. I was determined to learn the language to at least understand what they were saying. I tried to be a polite baby but it was tough when there was no way to communicate. I’d have to resort to crying when I needed food or milk. I worked hard not to develop any new mommy issues being a man with a thirty two year old mind sucking on his new mother’s breasts. Time would tell, I guess.

I was a good baby. It was only a few months. It was only about three months before I realized what X meant. Or X. And soon I was learning the new words for ‘sun.’ ‘Mom.’ ‘Pop.’ I hadn’t decided if I was going to be a daddy’s boy or a mama’s boy. They were shocked when my first words were ‘parents.’ I couldn’t do that to either of them.

Time felt insane to me. A year was eternity. My perception was completely warped by how young I was again. The first year spent mostly learning the language was agonizing but it was necessary. It taught me something I didn’t have in my past life. It taught me patience.

I was my parent’s little miracle. They worshiped me, but they didn’t like me hopping around crawling wherever I could. Boy, I was a crawler. The thing was, our house was small. Things got boring. I would escape whenever there was an open door.

My mom would always cry out to my father, Timu, to go catch me. I don’t think my mother was a worrier before my birth. I think she was a tough lady who got her confidence rocked by a freak accident. More importantly, I think she blamed herself.

I could tell from our living arrangements that dad’s job wasn’t the most important. I can’t say it didn’t bug me a little. It would have made my ascendancy a little easier if he had a great job. That was okay. As long as he was a respected member of the community.

After the first few months, people came by to pay their tribute to the new baby. No grandpa unfortunately, but a grandma on my dad’s side that thought I was the sweetest thing.

One year turned into two and two turned into three. Even though I never met my mom’s parents, they’d sent their maid off to stay with us and help for the few years until I was on my feet. Since my mom and my maid were both elves, a few years time was really nothing to them. It was a lunch break. Timu was chuffed. He’d never had a maid before. Dad didn’t have much money but mom? Mom came from money! And class! That’s how they were able to get a swanky maid.

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I would never forget the day Hestiana darkened our doorstep. I was only two months old then, and she knocked on our door. She came in an outfit that looked completely out of place next to my mother and father’s simple tunic and dress. Her elven maid outfit was black and purple, a choker around her neck, and a bonnet on her head. The whole nine yards. She was gorgeous. Darker than my mom. She had purple eyes that matched her outfit to a tee.

I was smitten. She was one of the first people I crawled up to. I made sure to give her an extra tight hug. Hestiana held me tightly. She had this gentle presence about her. Maybe from a lifetime of neither being seen nor heard. I think we bonded that day because, while she was a maid, when I crawled up to her and looked her in the eyes, I saw her like her masters didn’t. She asked if it was alright to hug me. I nodded my large head but it turned out she was asking my mother. We embraced. I looked down at her bosom. This was going to be a fun eighteen years.

Before I knew it I was walking and talking. I made sure to keep my sentences short. It wasn’t that hard to act like a child. I was learning a new language, not unlike a child. And when I turned four and was able to ask questions, I didn't hesitate. And like when a toddler asks, “what’s this? Why? What’s that? Why?” I wasn’t that different. I wanted to learn every inch of this strange world.

One time, I was in the marketplace with Hestania. She was getting some vegetables for dinner. I pulled at the hem of her skirt and asked, “Hesti, what does daddy do?”

Hesti looked down at me and said, ‘ask your father.’”

Okay, that went nowhere fast. I pulled her hem again, “Hesti, what is elfland like?”

Hesti mulled over a celery that looked a little bruised, “Elfland is a wondrous place. It’s full of lush forests and waterfalls. It is less hot there.”

Hesti was always shy. And when she wasn’t shy, she also wasn’t talkative. But the one thing she could not shut up about was Elfland.

“Hesti,” I pulled her skirt, “Grandpa and Grandma live there?”

Hesti crouched on her knees and nodded at me, “Mhmm. Grandpa and Grandma live there. Or as we say in elvish, Bah and Blah live there.”

“Bah and Blah,” I repeated

She smiled at me before turning around and bought the celery. She was setting out to make soup when we got home. I looked up at her and realized that she was my first mission. She was the edge I could have as I navigated this world. I pulled her skirt again. She rolled her eyes with a smile and looked back down at me.

“Yes?” She asked.

“Hesti, can you teach me elvish?”

“Of course I will, little master.”