On Vessel

“How come I don’t have your nose like he does? I want a pointed and sharp nose like yours.” Even the mother couldn’t give her an answer if she wanted. It was a point in her daughter’s life, in which she would still ask many questions and only little of the answers would ever reach the quality of satisfying. “How come I’ve always had problems with my skin ever since I was small? How come he hasn’t? What were you eating those days?” The mother was bombarded with such questions, interrupting all the noises from the television show she was watching. “Why don’t I have your good looks like he does? Why do I always get the ugly sides? I get only these freckles and nothing more thank you very much.” The mother laughed. Those were serious questions she knew for sure, but that’s the thing with honesty. Sometimes it just makes you laugh. “I don’t know honey, I seriously don’t know. What I know is, you have the kindest heart among us all.” The daughter was silent. She made such gestures as if to end the conversation in a natural way, just like she always did when things become awkward. Approaching her napping dog at the corner, she said to herself half murmuring. I would trade it for all those, I know I would.

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