My uncle had taken me to the park

he was the only adult

who would play tag

or ride down the big slide with me

if i got scared

uncle was mama's baby brother

but i do not know why

she called him baby

he was a teenager

a gazillion years older than me

he drove us back home

drumming his hands on the steering wheel

singing along to the radio

adding in potty words

to make me giggle

when we got back

mama and daddy were waiting

to ask us if we had fun

and to soon

it was time

to hug uncle goodbye

you are going to be a great

dad someday, i said

he smiled

ruffled my hair

but what he did not say

is that he already had a kid

and it was me.

Their hands are so big. Only the men. The lady hands are not so big, but that doesn’t mean I like it more when they touch my face, or pat my head. Some of them rub my head the way my sister rubbed a balloon at my birthday party to make it stick on the wall. Now my hair feels all fuzzy like my jammies when they come out of the dryer. And so many of them want to pick me up and hug me as tight as I hug my Thumbalina doll. Don’t they know I’m a real girl, not pretend? On a different day, Daddy told me he was taking my Thumbalina to the doll hospital when her head stopped moving. He still doesn’t know that when he left, my sister called me stupid for believing him. “Only a baby would believe there is a doll hospital. It’s a broken button that can’t be fixed. He’s gone to buy you at new one at the store.” When he gave me back my Thumbalina, she smelled different, but she looked exactly the same. I liked Daddy’s words better, so I hugged her like I always did, just like I did before he took her away, and then I hugged Daddy for real life, not the way these people are hugging me.

Who are these people anyway? Why do they all look so sad when they look at me? Some of them have tears on their cheeks, even some men. Do they know I am only 6 and grown ups are supposed to act in a nice and happy way around kids? At least that’s what most grown ups I see in our apartment building do, and also the other people, like my teacher and Mrs. Franco, the old lady that comes to watch us after school. But I’m forgetting to tell the whole story. Lately all of them, even Mrs. Franco look at me sad too. Have I been bad? Why don’t they tell me if I’ve been bad? I say my prayers and I don’t cry when it’s bedtime. I listen to the rules at home and at school and I play nice even on days when other kids are bad like Jimmy. He lied and told some kids I had cooties. Mrs. Wintz told Jimmy he would miss recess for being mean and lying, and I felt happy about that. Feeling happy is good, but being around all these sad people is starting to make me feel sad now and scared. I don’t like to be scared. Not even on that special scary day, Halloween, when kids dress up all spooky and say boo. Daddy said we could go out trick or treating when it was dark and I said no thank you. He let my sister go with her friends and she called me a baby before she left and I didn’t even care.

Daddy comes to me now in the crowd, not pushing all of the people out of the way, they just sort of move on their own, still looking sad, even the lady who got lipstick on my cheek. I know because it felt wet so I wiped it with with the back of my hand and saw the red. He takes my hand and leads me over to this very big box. If it is a present for someone, maybe they are lucky today, but when I ask Daddy what is in the box, he looks down at me and he says something wrong. “Say good-bye to your mother.” And he touches the box as if she is in there. Silly Daddy. Mommy is at the hospital. Doesn’t he know only dolls come in a box?

Body of Christ.

I don’t get it...

You have to accept him so we can wash your sins away.

But I haven’t done anything.

It doesn’t matter. You were born this way.

I thought I was baptized.

Body of Christ.

Well, you were.

I thought that washed my sin away.

Please don’t argue. You get to wear that pretty dress.

I do like the dress...

Body of Christ.

Body of Christ.

Body of Christ.

I don’t want the wine.

It’s not wine. It’s the blood of Christ.

How is drinking wine going to make me less evil?

It’s not wine...

Body of Christ.

Well drinking blood seems pretty evil too...

Can you please stop arguing?

Body of Christ.

Body of Christ.

Body of Christ.

No thank you.

Uhhhhh...

Please don’t do this???

Ok, I’ll eat the bread, but I’m not drinking wine.

What do you want me to do with her?

Baby, please just take a sip.

Nope. I don’t like when people drink.

What do you want me to do?

You can have my wine. I’m going to go sit back down. Thank you for making me less evil.

i twirl

spin around

till I bump into

a frail, weary lookin’

silver~haired person

Papa quickly grabs

my hand & tells me

to look away

i pull my hand away

and give the person a

bag of cookies, ‘n’

blueberry muffins.

i wave to them with a

gleeful cheer, and smile

before I am lifted off the

ground and Papa takes

me home without ever

even looking at the

person who’s all alone.

#FollowChild’sLead

I hold my breath

So I don’t get a whiff

I hug you tightly

And your body goes stiff

You said my little arms won’t ever reach around

And you were right every time, my other hand, I never found

I couldn’t care less

That black is their attire

I need to get close

The need is now dire

I know you have to go

That much I understand

But I have something to tell you

Before God goes on with his plan

I loved when you let me dance on your feet

How you tapped on my shoulder to keep the beat

And when you worked late

You would always call

You told me goodnight

And I would talk just to stall

You would come home

Early in the day

I hugged you so fast

Your body would sway

Your scent always burned

So I learned to hold my breath

But when you didn’t come home

Your burning scent was your death

Sleepless night, cold rooms, loud silence, hanging questions. No one seems to know...

Things had never been the same ever since my father lost his job. The happy family which we once had began to tear apart bit by bits. The gay atmosphere meteorically turned estranged just like a dream.

Like every other normal family, my family, the Peters, was a nice one filled with loving members. My father used to be an accountant in a reputable bank while my mother owned a booming eatery. My family was always filled with elation and happiness. I was the only child of the family and I was nine years old. My parents loved me so much just as I did.

We had been leading our normal lives until my dad brought a retrenchment letter home. At first he wanted to hide it from us by pretending every early morning that he was going to work while he wasn’t. He was able to keep that up for just two weeks until my mum discovered the letter while cleaning their room. My mum was very angry that he tried to hide it from the family. She confronted him about it and that was how we found out that our big man had been sacked. The incident was a big blow to the family but not as big as what happened next.

When My mum discovered that dad had lost his job, she began to urge him to search for another job since he still had his certificates. My dad heeded to her advice but soon stopped after five weeks of unfruitful job hunt. He started to stay at home doing nothing just watching football on the television screen. Mum then became the breadwinner of the family. She, one day got fed up and scolded dad on his bad behavior of sitting at home and watching television.

That day was very hot as dad became angry. I was scared that they might start fighting so I ran to my room and shut the door. I threw the bed sheet over my head and closed my eyes I could still hear their voices faintly. Whenever they quarrelled, they used lots of invective words which I didn’t want to hear. My legs were shaking violently under the bed sheet.

Few minutes later, I heard the main door bang. I stood up quickly and walked to the window to see who it was that left. I saw my dad driving out of the compound in his car. I sighed and went back to the bed. My parents rarely quarrelled but whenever they did, it was always hot. My dad didn’t return until the next morning.

Days after the quarrel, my father changed. He left the house early in the morning and came back late in the night. I hardly saw him. I couldn’t understand why. It couldn’t be because of the quarrel. They have long settled their differences. They were always together joking around so dad couldn’t be angry with mum. I thought.

Whenever i got lucky to see my dad, he was always with a whitish substance and some drugs. Each time i questioned him about it, he told me they were drugs for stomach ache. I asked him if he had stomach ache and he said he did. I felt sorry for him. He continued taking the drugs and I wondered why the stomach ache refused to leave him.

One fateful day, i felt my stomach aching and luckily for me, my dad was around so I ran to him because I was hoping he would give me some of the medicines he had been taking but to my greatest surprise, he refused. Instead, he took me to a nearby pharmacy and bought some drugs for me. I asked him why he was being prodigal when he had countless of stomach ache drugs but he told me those drugs were for adults only.

I wasn’t skeptical about anything. I took the drugs and soon I became well but my dad continued taking his drugs. He wasn’t recovering from the illness. Those drugs must be fake. I thought. I even told him one day to throw away those drugs and get new ones from the pharmacy since he had been taking the drugs for almost a month but my father drew me closer to him and nuzzled my cheeks. My mum wasn’t aware of my dad’s everlasting stomach ache and my dad asked me not to tell her. He said she had many things on board and he wouldn’t like to stress her out with a minute problem. I saw reasons with him. Mum had been working extra hours because the family was depending on her only. I wouldn’t want to bother her with more burdens.

Some weeks later, My mum started complaining of someone stealing her money. She said she kept a sum of twenty thousand naira in her wardrobe and when she checked later, she couldn’t find it. It was so strange to me. Why would money be missing in the house? I wondered. I didn’t take it so who would have taken it? I told my mum that she might have misplaced it on her way from the eatery but she glared at me. We searched frantically for it to no avail.

My mother became very gloomy after losing that money. The same thing happened again and this time around my mum stopped bringing money home. She stopped at a bank each time she made a huge sale. it was disheartening to think that a thief was in the house. It was saddening. There was no more trust in the family.

When I thought all strange things were over, my dad stopped coming home. I said earlier that he often left the house early and returned late but this time around, he didn’t come back home. It was so strange and i was worried, so was my mum. She even picked a day to search for him. I wanted to go with her but she refused to take me along so I sat in the sitting room staring at the door. I fell asleep and when i woke up it was ten in the night. My mum hadn’t returned. My legs began to shake. I became restless so I paced around the house since sitting down was already tiresome to me.

The door opened and my mum walked in. She looked so tired and unhappy. I ran to give her a hug and she smiled wryly at me. I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water for her even without her asking. She thanked me and took a huge drink from the bottle of water.

I waited for her to finish drinking the water before I asked her the question that had been hanging in my heart through out the day. She smiled again at me and asked why I hadn’t gone to bed.

“I was waiting for you.” I replied. “Did you find dad?” I asked again as I held my legs to stop them from shaking. It was always like that whenever I was nervous about something. When I was two years old, my mum took me to a medical centre to take an injection against hepatitis and tetanus, my legs shook so much then that she had to hold them. That was when she discovered that my legs shook whenever I was nervous or scared.

“Not yet dear.” My mum replied. “I checked everywhere for him even his friends’ houses but none of them knew about his whereabout. I’m so frustrated. Your dad has been acting strange ever since he lost his job. He had been...”

“He must be in an hospital.” I cut in. I didn’t think my dad was to be blamed. He must have left to treat his stomach ache.

“Why did you think so?” My mum asked moving closer to me.

I bit my lower lips. Dad had asked me not to tell her but I couldn’t hide it anymore. “Dad had been taking drugs for stomach ache. It must have been an acute one because he had been taking the drugs everyday for a month now.”

My mum’s eyes widened. “What kind of drugs has he been taking?”

“I don’t know the name of the drugs but it’s a whitish substances wrapped in nylon. He said it was for stomach ache. I think we should check St Grace hospital, he might be there.” I told her. My eyes were already teary and fat drops of tears were threatening to drop.

My mum became still the moment I said that. She looked like she had just seen a ghost.

“Mum, are you okay?” I asked her but she shook her head.

“You said he had been taking these drugs for a month now right?” She asked me and I nodded. Immediately, my mother broke down in tears. I was horrified.

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier Mary? Why?” She whimpered.

“Because dad asked me not to. He said he didn’t want to bother you.” I cried out as tears rolled out of my eyes.

My mum stood up and shook her head. She took her bags and walked away to her room. As I heard her climb the stairs, my heart shook violently. I was confused. My mum left just like that leaving me with lots of questions and no answers. Why was she crying so hard? Why was she looking so sad? As I sat thinking, I heard my mum’s soft sob from her room. Pain so strong gripped my heart tightly as I listened to her sobs. Soon I joined in the crying.

I fell asleep in the sitting room that day. I had cried myself into sleeping. When I woke up the next morning, I didn’t find my mother. I went to her room to check on her but she wasn’t there. I called out her name but no response. I then went back to the sitting room and that was when I saw a written note on the dining table.

“Mary, I’m going out to search for your father one more time. I hope to find him. I’d be back soon. There’s a carton of noodles and some eggs in the kitchen. Prepare some for yourself and go to school.”

I sighed. How would she think I’ll go to school? How would I be able to concentrate? I walked to the kitchen and prepared noodles for myself. Noodles was the only meal I could prepare and that was my favourite food but while I ate, I couldn’t savour the taste. It tasted like gall in my mouth.

My mum returned just like the other day but this time, earlier. With her expression I could tell that the result wasn’t good.

“I searched everywhere, no sign of him.” She muttered as she walked into her room.

My mum gave up the search after that day. My father’s parents were dead so there was no one to consult. I refused to believe my dad was missing. I hoped that one day he would come back just as he had left. Three months passed yet nothing from my dad. This changed my mother. The departure of my dad demoralized her. She became withdrawn and stayed indoors most of the time. I too was affected. I wasn’t myself anymore. I was so worried and hurt but I still believed, strongly, that one day, somehow, my dad would return from whatever hospital he was. I was willing to wait patiently for that day.

The house was cold and icy as we were all lost in our respective thoughts. The house wasn’t the same without my father. It looked precarious to me. My mum continued with her business. She never said anything about my father and I never asked.

The departure of my father not only affected my sanity but also my academics. I couldn’t concentrate in class. My teacher noticed this and she called me to her office one day. I was a brilliant child and I was always among the first three that passed. She asked me what was happening and why I was losing interest in my academics. I stared at her numbly because I didn’t know what to say. After many fruitless attempt to know my predicament, she sent a letter to my mum. My mum who knew why I was like that sat me down on her bed and told me not to allow my father’s betrayal affect my life. I didn’t understand what she meant by that but I shook my head and left her room. I tried reading my book immediately I came into my room but all I could see was my father’s face and the stomach ache drugs. This was what always happen whenever I wanted to read. When my test result came out, I failed woefully. I wasn’t surprised because I didn’t prepare for the test but the rest of my classmates and teachers were surprised at my poor performance. I felt bad about it because I wasn’t used to failure. My mother didn’t say anything about it. She only asked me to work harder. I was grateful she didn’t stress the issue.

My mum took solace in church. I could tell that the departure of my father affected her just as it affected me if not greater. My mum felt the church was a place were burdens were lifted, where she could feel free and was accepted, where she could empty all the content of her heart to God and where she could feel the presence of God. She made it compulsory for me to attend all weekly programmes and Sunday services. I didn’t mind because I loved the church and I loved God. I loved hearing stories about Jesus and all that he did. I loved Sunday schools and I loved the hymns and praises we sang in church.

Two years swept away like dust still my father was no where to be found. My mum got better within those years. She began to carry on with her life. She was no more looking sad and withdrawn instead she looked happy. Her eatery business was booming like never before. She even employed more people to help in the service of food. I always dropped by the shop anytime I returned from school, then in the evening, I and my mum would return home together. Each time I dropped by the shop, I’d either see my mum discussing with her friends or taking note of sales. She was always busy and had no time to think or sulk over my dad. I was happy my mum was happy because I heard that over thinking could terminate the life of a person. I had just lost my dad, I didn’t want to lose my mum too.

One Wednesday afternoon, as I was returning from school with my friends, i sighted a man standing by the side of the road. He seemed to be waiting for something. Now, I didn’t need a teacher to tell me who the man was. I wasn’t mistaken at all. He was my father but he looked so dirty and shabbily dressed. His hair was rough and dirty. He looked like he hadn’t shaved or taken his bath for like six months. I called out quickly, “Daddy!” I began to run towards him. I ignored the calls of my friends. I didn’t even perform the ritual of looking left and right before crossing. My dad looked back slightly. Just then a car stopped immediately in front of him and he entered the car without waiting for me to get to him. He didn’t even give me a glance.

I ran after the car screaming at the top of my voice but the car didn’t stop. I fell to the ground and began to weep. I just saw my father whom I hadn’t seen for more than two years and I didn’t get a chance to speak with him. I hated myself. I blamed myself for not calling louder. I blamed myself for not running faster. I blamed myself for not trying harder. I wept till there were no more tears to shed.

When I got to my mum’s shop that day, my mum knew instantly that I had been crying. She sat me down and asked me what happened. I told her everything. I wanted her to know. I told her how I let an opportunity of speaking with my father slip away. My mother drew me into her arms and rocked me like a baby. She sang into my ear that it wasn’t my fault and I shouldn’t blame myself instead she told me to blame my dad for not visiting the family he left for more than two years. I fell asleep in her arms and I woke up on my bed that night. I didn’t know how my mum carried me all the way from the eatery to the house.

My mum had told me it wasn’t my fault but deep down I felt it was. I prayed to God to grant me another opportunity but it never came. I didn’t see my father anymore, no matter the amount of times I walked through that particular path I had seen him.

One day, I came to the eatery and to my greatest surprise my mum asked me to get my bags that we were going home. I asked her why we were going home that early. It was just two in the afternoon. She replied that she wanted to take me out to see a movie. I was excited by the news so when we got home, I ran into the bathroom to take my bath. When I came out of the bathroom, my mum was selecting the clothes I would wear. She selected a denim jeans trouser and a silky blouse with a sandal to match. She asked me to eat my food while she go and freshen up. I went to the dining table where a dish of Jollof rice with fried eggs was waiting for me. I ate the meal with great relish. My mum was an extraordinary cook, no wonder many customers flooded into her eatery to buy food.

My mum came down the stairs immediately I was done with eating. She was dressed in a yellow floppy gown. Her braided hair was tied into a bun. She looked taller because of the stiletto she was putting on. She smiled at me and asked me how she looked.

“You look very beautiful mum.” I informed her. The smile on her face widened and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thanks dear!” She touched my cheeks. “let’s get going.”

I sat at the front seat with my mum as she drove. I didn’t know where the movie theatre was located so I stared out through the window. It was a silent drive as we were both occupied with our respective thoughts.

We got to the movie theatre after a drive of about forty five minutes. We entered into the darkened theatre and luckily for us the movie was just starting. Mum chose some seats away from everyone else and ushered me to sit.

The movie we watched was titled ‘night wonder.’ it was a sentimental movie about a woman who lost her husband after five years of marriage.

My mum asked me how the movie was and I told her it was very interesting. She smiled at me.

“You know, the movie was kind of talking to both of us.” She chuckled. “I love the woman’s ability to get up from the ground, dust herself up and move on and that’s what I’m trying to do. Since your father left, I haven’t been myself but I’ve been trying to move on with my life. The movie is trying to tell us to move on. Mary, you should move on. Don’t allow your father’s betrayal affect your life, your academics and your relationship with others.”

I understood what she was saying. In fact, I wanted to change. I wanted to be normal again. I was losing my friends and I was failing in school. I never knew my mum noticed all these things. My behaviour had changed ever since my father left the house.

She was right. It’s time to move on. I promised my mum that I’ll move on just like the woman from the movie. My mum smiled brightly at me. She wrapped me in her arms as I felt her tears drop on my shoulder.

I kept to my promise as I started to improve in my academics. Even though, I wasn’t among the first three in class, I was at least among the first ten. I started to amend my behaviour. I started to come out of my shell. My mum was glad at my changed attitude. She told me she was proud of me and I felt that was all that mattered.

Red Rhubarb

Today, I am five and a half, which is a lot, but I am not very pretty ’cuz my hair is red and I have too many freckles. But I have one friend, Mary Jane, and she’s fat which is even worse! I feel good when I am around her because everyone makes fun of her and forgets about my red hair.

Today, Mary Jane is with her Dad who duzn’t live with her. I’m not sure why but I think it’s ’cuz her Mom is so mean. But her Dad took us to the movies once and bought us Juicy Fruit so I think he’s nice.

But today, I am by myself and I decide to sneak into the rhubarb patch behind Mary Jane’s house ’cuz I love rhubarb. It’s sour but it makes my tongue sparkle! So there I am, crawling into the garden to get my rhubarb stalk when I hear this loud nasty voice, “Get out of my rhubarb patch!” I make myself invisible but it doesn’t work and I look up to see Mary Jane’s mother yelling from the second story of her house. She’s fat, too, like Mary Jane. I can’t make myself invisible because she is up too high and can see me. “I’m going to call your mother and tell her you’re stealing my rhubarb!” She sounds like a witch and I am very scared and run home as fast as my skinny legs can carry me.

All night, I wait for the phone call to my Mommy and am so scared. Finally, I fall asleep and have this horrible, terrible dream. My hands are red and runny from the rhubarb and everyone knows I am a thief. I wake up the next morning to hear a lot of shrieking siren noise and look out the window as fast as I can. There are police cars everywhere. I look again at my red hands and it looks like blood. Then I remember what I did to Mary Jane’s fat mommy and I know I am safe because I am too little for anyone to think I did it!

Now I can have all the rhubarb I want!

“Will you play in the sandbox with me?” she requests, offering me an extra tiny pink pail. Her eyes are chocolate brown and her smile is infectious.

I am about to say yes.

But she’s a girl.

She obviously has cooties.

Of course I don’t like her.

“No.” I say instead and run off to play football with my older brothers.

But when I reach, my brothers say I’m too young to play and only use me to bring back balls that fly out of the playground. It’s boring, and not as fun as building sandcastles. But at least, I am playing with boys. We don’t have cooties.

My oldest brother is the meanest and he kicks the hardest. I hate it when he kicks because I have to run all the way to the end of the park to retrieve the football.

Sure enough, he sends the ball soaring across the playground. My middle brother looks at me expectantly and gestures towards the ball.

“I’ll get it.” I say and rush off to look for the ball.

My brother may have sent the ball to another galaxy, because I couldn’t find it anywhere. But what I did find, was the little sandbox girl crying beside the sandbox as a bigger boy, much bigger than me knocked down her sandcastle.

“Stop that you big bully!” I yell and pull at his fat arms. He is strong and pushes back, sending me flying to the ground.

The little girl calls for help, but it is late in the evening, and at this part of the playground, there are only kids, kids like the little girl, too scared and too young to help.

It rests on me to save the world from this mean bully.

I do what I do best, what runs in my family, I kick him on the shin.

The big bad bully starts to cry and I feel mean, but the other kids are cheering and the little girl is smiling. And then after the bully runs off to complain to his mother, the little girl suddenly springs up to hug me.

“Thank you.” she says as she suffocates me. Although it feels oddly nice, I push her away gently.

After all she is a girl and everyone knows girls have cooties.

“No problem.” I say, standing straighter so I am at least a foot taller than her.

“Will you play in the sandbox with me tomorrow?” she asks hopefully.

It’s hard to refuse. But my boyhood code of honour allows for only that.

“No.” I say and regret it instantly as she lowers her head in disappointment. “But you can play football with me if you like.”

Her eyes light up like firecrackers at New Year’s and she hugs me again. It’s more comfortable this time, and since I find a way to breathe, I do not push her away.

I say goodbye to her when her father comes to pick her up after a while, and my frantic older brothers come along to take me home.

“Where’d you run off to kiddo?” asks my oldest brother as we takes my hand and starts walking. “You had us worried sick.”

“I couldn’t find the ball.” I explain.

“Forget the ball. Are you okay? You look like you fell down.” says my middle brother while dusting off my pants.

“I fought a bully. And won!” I say triumphantly.

“Someone’s bullying you?” demand my brothers instantly.

“Not me, the sandbox girl.“I say as we continue walking.

“Sandbox girl?” they ask perplexed.

“Sandbox girl.” I confirm.

“Looks like shorty has a girlfriend.” concludes my middle brother. He laughs at my scowl and ruffles my hair.

“Is it bad?” I ask and both of them stop to laugh at me.

“Not bad at all, kiddo. You’re just growing up.” says my eldest brother sagely. He is sixteen so he probably knows about this stuff. “It happens to the best of us.”

“Yeah it’s okay. However, as your closest relatives, we reserve the right to make fun of you for the rest of your life.” cackles my middle brother. He may be fourteen, but I swear he gets more annoying each year.

If I am honest I don’t mind if my brothers crack jokes, it seems that’s the worst they will ever do. Besides if I want them to stop, I only need to tell Mom.

I am only six, but I think I like Sandbox Girl.

Because I don’t care if she’s a girl or if she has cooties. I want to be her friend.

#childhood

#slice-of-life

#first love

#sibling

#brother

#sandbox

#six

#children

#innocent

#girl

#boy

#sweet

#heart

Today mommy went out with Mr.Banks. He is a very nice man. Wears this huge tie and has big hands. Big giant hands. I honestly don't like them a lot, but Mr.Banks makes me laugh.

Mommy doesn't know this but I saw her touching lips with Mr .Banks one day,Just like she does with daddy. Maybe they were sharing top secret information. Anyway, I felt hungry after that, so I went to the kitchen for some milk and cookies.

Today when mommy came back, there was something on her shirt. Me and Daddy were sitting in the drawing room when she came in. But, something was different. She smelled just like Mr.Banks. Something flashed across my mind.

"Mommy, where you sharing information with Mr .Banks again?" i blurted.

That got daddy's attention. He raised his eyebrows so high i was afraid they might pop out into the sky. My mommy looked genuinely shocked. But before she could say something, I asked,"Were you touching lips again?"

Mommy looked horrified. Just like Elsa when she had frozen Anna.

Then i looked at Daddy. Suddenly i noticed the dark circles under his eyes, had he accidentally used my crayons. Then I noticed the marks on his face...what were they called ?Mommy had told me...warkles..wipples..wrink...wrinkles! Yes wrinkles!

For the next few seconds , Mommy and Daddy just stared at each other. Maybe they were sharing information too. But maybe Mommy liked Mr. Banks' information better, because she was crying. I ran over to her to see if she was hurt so I could kiss her boo-boo better. But she just pushed me away.

Now, three weeks have passed. Mommy and Daddy still don't talk. Maybe Daddy got angry that Mommy was touching lips with Mr. Banks. I don't understand. What's wrong with sharing?

But, Mr .Banks comes by everyday and my Mommy and him, share information a lot.

Mommy must be intelligent. She shared information with two men; Daddy and Mr. Banks.

I hope I can be like Mommy.

11/14/18

Like a loving poem goes

You were my home

Came to me with nothing but open arms

As I naively took you in

I craved your sense

you were my everything

From bliss to sins

It meant the world to me

The way you held me

To how you drained me

It wasn’t shortly after

this became a game to see

From how you uttered you loved me

To how you showed you’d blow me

From the smile in my face

To the scars in my hands

You were my everything

& while everyone saw us walking through rainbows

I was here stuck in this dull prism

#MyFirstChallenge #Prose

Art By: Willie Hsu