Her hand reaches for his while the other hand wipes the tears from her cheek.
He can hear her little heart break with each slow methodical step.
Sits on a rock while slowly kicking the grass and dirt in tiny little circles.
She sighs and says:
“Daddy? You see that flower over there? No, the red and yellow one with black speckles and the white swirls. I wanna be like the flower. Ya know why? Because the flower just is. There is no better or not. The flower isn’t even concerned that it’s a flower. It just is. The flower and I are a lot alike. I remember you telling me that when I was younger and not so sad. Now; it’s always tomorrow. Tomorrow always hurts. Never, it seems, is it ok to just be today. No more. Today is now. Here. With you. I like the flower.”
© Carlson, 2014