Napping in the backyard of our house becomes my habit every day at noon when I don't have anything to do. In my spare time, one of my favorite pastimes was swinging in a hammock between two old coconut trees. The scent of the cool breeze always transported me to a place where all my limited dreams do come true. And one lazy afternoon, my mother startled me awake with her loud voice and stomping boots. She'd left a few days ago and hadn't returned until this afternoon. I was surprised to see her return so quickly because I hadn't expected it. She may have been exhausted or missing me, which is why she returned to our house so early. I used to be alone since my father passed away, and I don't mind it.

Returning home this early is quite unusual for her.

I lifted my head toward our gate to see her, but the foliage of the palm trees planted by my late father when he was young obscured my vision. I need to stand on my feet only to see her blurry shadow from afar. I had never dared to ask some questions about where she was going when she left, and after a month, I had learned to adapt to the situation. I do believe that her decisions and actions were a method for her to cope with our family's grief when my father died. I had just turned eighteen and had my debut just a few days before my father died, so it was heartbreaking and devastating for me. None of us had expected it, so it was so painful for us. As a daughter, I was pleased because I could have my first dance with him on my birthday, even though it was my first and last chance.

And if I could go back in time, I would choose not to celebrate my birthday and instead remain a teenager to spend more time with my father. If only I could do that. I wish.

"Amelia, where are you? I am home!"

I came back to reality when I heard my mother calling my name. But wait a minute—why was the tone of her voice now kind and calming? She pronounced my name in the gentle tone that my father used to use while speaking to me. I groaned and smiled as if she were my Dad. It made me miss him more.

"Please open the gate for me. I'm back!"

"Hang on, wait a minute, Mom." I responded without looking at her.

At that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness rise in my throat as I reflected on how my father's death affected my life now. The pain was still unbearable.

It was the most horrific experience I had ever had, yet I didn't tell Mom about it. My tears always flowed like water from a leaking faucet when I was alone. I had numerous plans for when I grew up and became an adult. Among them is to take them on vacation in the future while I pay for everything as a giving-back gift for them. But it was impossible to happen now, as the only one left beside me is my mother. Only the memories of him lingered in this place. I hope they give me more time to be with him, but that's life. Maybe it was his fate.

Thinking about that right now, I promised myself that I could still do that with my mom. She was still with me, and only Dad is missing. I still hope that she can be with me for a long time. I am not ready to lose her too. It was okay with me that my mom would leave the house when she was depressed.

And dwelling in this place longer than I could becomes my comfort spot.

Do you want to know my reason why?

It is because it was also Dad's favorite spot. I could always feel him here when I lay down and closed my eyes while recalling his voice shouting my name while making fun of me.

"I adore you, Amelia, and having you in my life has been the nicest thing that has ever happened to me. That is something I hope you never forget in the future, even though I was not beside you."

He constantly said this, especially after a few glasses of alcohol.

"I love you, too, Dad," I always replied before I embraced him as tight as I could.

My Dad was born on this island. It was his hometown. My mother came from a place where I was unfamiliar with the local culture. Every time I ask her, she always says she came from the city. Far away from here. I don't have a chance to dig more into her; I can feel that she doesn't want to talk about that place, and it was a bit awkward.

As I was also born here, like my Dad, I knew this island very well. From the shoreline to the nearby forest. It becomes my playground. I could swim like a mermaid; surfing is one of my favorite hobbies, as are those of my friends. I look forward every weekend to spending time together with my family every weekend. We may cruise to the nearest island and spend a few hours there. That's routine in my family. We are not wealthy; we just had enough for daily life.

"I hope it continues until I find someone to marry and start my own family," I always said into the wind as I watched my parents run along the beach, catch each other, dance with the waves, and laugh while urging me to join them. "It would be too much for me to bear if I lost one of them early."

My Dad owned a fleet of twenty-five huge fishing boats, which he utilized to meet our family's daily expenses. Furthermore, it was enough for us to enjoy a good life compared to other families that worked hard and paid for it. My father sold fish at nearby markets, so he hired people to go to the ocean and catch fish to sell before noon. I had no idea how my father distributed their income daily like they say after a long day at sea.

"Dad, Mom, can I ask some questions?"

Out of the blue, I stated while we were having dinner. I think I was ten years old back then.

"What is it, Amelia?" Mom lifted her eyes to me, and I forced a smile.

I've been scared of asking them this kind of question, but I am curious.

"When could I have a baby brother or sister?"

Dad almost chokes on the water he had been drinking. It made him cough continuously. He looked away when I glanced at him.

"It's not nice to say that we don't want to give you a sibling, Amelia, but we are trying our best."

I went into silence for a few seconds.

"But it seems that our best efforts and efforts were not enough to give you a brother or sister," Dad added as he reached out my hand. I forced another smile.

Maybe I am putting them under pressure, which is not helping them.

"I am sorry, Mom and Dad. I won't ask next time."

They glanced at each other as if their eyes were talking in silence for a few minutes.