[Fiction] Baby Talk

Constantine trotted by Sarah’s side like a shadow even when the sun wasn’t out. At first, the new baby brother had been a nuisance, a pest, on the same level as spiders and mosquitos to all fourteen-year-old girls, until he started talking.

Sarah listened as she never listened to anyone else, because when Constantine spoke it was not like other people speaking, but music. Soft rising. Sly falling. His toddler’s babble was possibility: untamed, uninformed, and incomplete.

She pressed her fingers against his cupid’s bow. Wet and slick with saliva, it was hungry for more than a bottle. She wrapped him in her thin arms, the ones her girlfriends taunted as anorexic at school, and found a surprising strength welling deep inside her.

She lifted a lullaby, a wonder, as Constantine sang.

Communication

In the silent waiting time
One must trust of good intentions
And greet the guest with courtesy and respect

In between the lines of unsaid things
It does great harm to project insecurities
And lay foundation to an anger that is not there

Be truthful and give explanation to yourself
Even if none is given to you
But understand that all words hold the curse of Babel