sweet tea. -tkam

innocent.

-3rd pov; time skip (1913, age 4)-

(Disclaimer: these are not Daisy's memories, she doesn't remember this)

"Daisy Mae!"

A woman called in a sing-song tone to a little blonde girl in the garden.

"Coming mama!"

The girl ran as fast as her little legs would carry her back to her mother, who was sitting on the back porch overlooking the fields, rocking in a wooden rocking chair.

"Oh look honey now you're all muddy, I told you to stay out of that garden, it's dirty" said the woman, rubbing dirt off of the child's face.

"Oh, sorry mama"

The woman shook her head and smiled

"I've told you a million times daisy Mae, not to play in the garden, but you always forget"

The girl looked around a bit

"What am I ever going to do with you, you just live in your own little world don't you"

The woman pulled daisy onto her lap, and began to brush Daisy's long hair. Daisy sat silently on lily's lap, watching the fields of grain sway in the breeze, her mind only filled with blissful imagination. her hands felt the smooth painted wood of the white rocking chair, and the fabric of her mother's dress.
Her mother's perfume danced in the air, and daisy could feel the warm presence of lily's embrace, and her love. It was peaceful. Mourning doves cooed in the distance, and the wind made harmony with faraway sounds by rustling the leaves of trees. Little creme-colored butterflies fluttered just above the fields, dipping below the grain just to pop back into sight again. The livestock grazed lazily across the farm, and the steady creak of the rocking chair made a sense of constant within the sounds.

"What do you see darling?" Lily said, tucking hair behind the child's ear, only for daisy to untuck it in a second.

"Daisy mae"

Daisy's gaze remained focused on the farm's vast beauties.

"Daisy" her mother shook her a bit, and at last, she looked back at her

With a soft smile, lily looked into her daughter's big blue eyes.

"Sometimes I wonder what wonderful things fill that head of yours."

Daisy shrugged, continuing to fixate on the land.

Lily sighed, rubbing her daughter's back lovingly.

"I do believe you're a smart girl, really."

It was silent for a moment, tension built, though daisy remained oblivious to it.

"I just think..."

A flock of birds fluttered from a tree, Daisy's young eyes following them while her mother gathered the words to say in her head.

"That intelligence...that I know you have...would show, if you focused more, you know?"

"You're just a little kid, you're.... you're just different than other kids and I think you'd be more....normal...if you just gave it a bit more effort dear. Just a little more...focus. You aren't trying hard enough and I know you're so little and you do not have to but I only want to set you up for a successful life. And I just think in order to do that you'll have to be a little more....normal, you know, focus a little more."

Her mother smiled a sad kind of smile, seeing her daughter's eyes glazed with a far-off look. Lily dearly loved daisy mae, with all her heart she held not a trace of hate for her. But the truth of the matter was that lily felt a sense of embarrassment for daisy.
Daisy mae played differently, ate differently, thought differently, and learned differently, she was different. While other kids her age went out dressed in little woolen coats, daisy would scream and cry when wool touched her skin. While some kids her age could thrive at lively dinner parties and in shops with their mother, daisy mae would cry and cover her ears to loud noises.
While most kids her age could be made to eat even foods they didn't like, daisy would gag when certain textures entered her mouth, unable to swallow even if she tried. When things were spoken slowly and clearly to her it seemed somehow she would manage to genuinely forget them right after, and no matter how long things were written out for her, there were things she failed to grasp no matter how hard she tried. It seemed impossible for people to hold her attention no matter what they tried to say. Even loving her as much as she did, Lily couldn't help but wonder if she had done something wrong.

"Mama?"

"Hm?"

"Where do the birds go?"

~timeskip; 1929 (age 20)~

Daisy mae sat on the edge of the back porch, her blonde hair fluttering in the cool breeze. The wind blew in a way that warned of coming rain, and off-white clouds emerged softly over the horizon. She liked the rain, and she liked what health it brought to the farm, but today it was different. It was beginning to become gray now, and she could smell the rain. Daisy mae was in a white tea-length dress with a sash around the waist. In her lap was a faded velvet maroon ring box.
She ran her thumb over the small package, feeling the velvet, though it had nearly rubbed off over the years. She opened the old box, uncovering the pair of pearl earrings. Two beautiful pearls sat on the velvet cushion, the pearls that her mother had once always worn. She smiled softly before tucking the box away in her bag. The wind picked up a bit, and she heard the rumble of a car in the distance. She was unsure of what life might hold for her in the near future.
A tall, black-haired man stepped out of his car and she began to feel a tightness in her chest. As she turned to meet the man she glanced over her shoulder, and back at the farmhouse. She saw for a moment a red-bricked foundation with bleached wood floors. There was a dark wooden shelf of potted plants, and lush hydrangea bushes as landscaping. The crisp white rocking chair sat with a yellow cushion, ready for lily mae to sit and overlook the scenery.
But it seemed like daisy blinked, and the red brick was washed, with moss and ivy growing along it. The wood was soggy and rotting, black splotches of mold growing along it. The rocking chair lay abandoned, unstable and rotted. Its paint chipped off, and the slats caved in. the shelves had fallen through, and all that was left was a mound of dirt and shattered terracotta. Dilapidated and abandoned, the home lay untouched and forgotten much like the fond memories daisy once shared on that porch. Lost in the deep spirals of her mind, it seemed it was a lost cause to remember a time before the hurt.