Callen was gently stirred awake by soft and familiar humming and the mellow rays of an awakening day. He felt warm and content. He looked around the small bedroom he found himself in. The bed barely fit him, and the floor was littered with various knickknacks and toys—an old Teddie here, an unfinished woodcarving there, an antique radio set on his nightstand.
He carefully extracted himself from the worn sheets and went through the creaky wooden floors towards the humming. The corridor was filled with various photos that showed the family at different stages of life: a happy young couple on their wedding day, a tired, smiling mother holding her baby, a man with a face full of cake, and a giggling child.
A delicious smell interrupted his stupor, and he realised he was starving. The humming was getting closer. A melody he would never forget. As he approached the kitchen, he couldn't stop the tears.
"Good morning Callie!" The soothing voice of his mother greeted him.
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She was happy to see him, as always. She was carefully nursing her special beef stew, which her nana had passed down. Rumours in the neighbourhood said that the original recipe, created during the war, could bring a man back from death's door.
"Callie?" When he did not respond, she looked at him, hazel eyes scrunched in worry. When she saw his face, she bolted to his side, stew forgotten. He was soon enveloped in a tender hug, her brown curls tickling his face. She smelled of honey and vanilla. He was safe.
"Oh honey, what happened?" The concern in her tone was palpable. He doesn't cry.
"Nothing mom, just a bad dream." He struggled to keep his tone even.
"Mommy will keep the bad dreams away." She said as she wiped his tears.
"Stop it mom, I'm not a baby anymore!" He couldn't help his reply—a familiar song and dance.
"You will always be my baby." She giggled. He immediately felt lifted, though he would never openly admit it.
"Now help me set the table. Your dad will soon be back from the farm." She messed his hair up and went back to her stew. It used to annoy him.
"Okay mom"
His body went into autopilot, going through motions done hundreds of times. He grabbed the old tablecloth from the drawer, set up the cutlery, and finally brought the freshly picked tulips to the centre of the table in their vase.