[Reaction.]
At first, Dietre thought perhaps he was seeing a memory he’d seen once before. Siblings laughing and playing. Did he recognize this house? Was it the same big, happy family he experienced during one of Repose’s prior memory scrambles? He thought yes. This was the sort of memory he welcomed heartily, drinking it down like a parched man in a desert, the sort of life he dreamed of as a child but could never have. Except like this, a fleeting glimpse of a childhood full of love and togetherness.
His heart raced with the little boy’s, and he savored laughing in a way he knew he’d never been able to and likely never would. This kind of boundless joy was a feeling only possible as a young child, his time to know it as his own was passed. That didn’t seem to matter though as he dashed down the hall, swept away by fun.
Oh, and there was the mother he’d seen before. She was as lovely as his own had been in those hours at the piano, and even moreso, because Dietre knew this woman showered her children with tenderness and care every hour of every day, not just when she had spare time.
Dietre wished he could stay, but the edges grew fuzzy, the laughter muffled. Soon it was over and he was on to the next, but he’d keep this memory like a cherished jewel and think of it often, feeling blessed to have seen it.