love should be as flowers of the weedy sort
Her seafoam-colored gaze flinches when Melita snorts audibly at her question. Kamaria finds herself chewing thoughtfully at the inside of her cheek. It's something little she'd seen her father do a lot, and it's here for a moment that she wonders how often he must feel troubled, with how much she's seen him do this nervous tic. Was it always because he felt bad?
"Well, when bees sting something, they usually die after," she comments, and it feels unhelpful, feels like nothing more than regurgitated facts she's learned in her classes. But maybe there's a point within it. "Maybe you should stop stinging him and just talk to him instead..."
As for making decisions without considering other people, Kamaria doesn't see that within her father. Her expression deepens and she wants to disagree, wants to find some way to defend him. "Daddy does lots of things for lots of people. My mom doesn't get to spend lots of time with me, but I know it's not because she doesn't love me. It's 'cause... she has grown-up stuff to do," she explains, though the vagueness of it feels drowned out by Melita's vexation. It's difficult for her to go into details, especially when she is still so new to this family, this world, and how complicated being a grown up really appears to be now. "What did he do that he didn't ask you first?" The question is hesitant, almost like she doesn't really want to know, but unless Melita tells her something more, she can't understand.
For now, her sand castle remains untouched, and truly she isn't sure that she can add much more to it. She likes it the way it is, simple, true to itself and true to her. As for Melita's? The work and attention the woman puts into it is astounding, and quite frankly far better. "I think you win..." she mumbles absently.
"Well, when bees sting something, they usually die after," she comments, and it feels unhelpful, feels like nothing more than regurgitated facts she's learned in her classes. But maybe there's a point within it. "Maybe you should stop stinging him and just talk to him instead..."
As for making decisions without considering other people, Kamaria doesn't see that within her father. Her expression deepens and she wants to disagree, wants to find some way to defend him. "Daddy does lots of things for lots of people. My mom doesn't get to spend lots of time with me, but I know it's not because she doesn't love me. It's 'cause... she has grown-up stuff to do," she explains, though the vagueness of it feels drowned out by Melita's vexation. It's difficult for her to go into details, especially when she is still so new to this family, this world, and how complicated being a grown up really appears to be now. "What did he do that he didn't ask you first?" The question is hesitant, almost like she doesn't really want to know, but unless Melita tells her something more, she can't understand.
For now, her sand castle remains untouched, and truly she isn't sure that she can add much more to it. She likes it the way it is, simple, true to itself and true to her. As for Melita's? The work and attention the woman puts into it is astounding, and quite frankly far better. "I think you win..." she mumbles absently.
they break through cement and persist
Kamaria
