"Can't she see it? She needs me."
I spoke with frustration and anger. I whimpered with longing.

"She can't see anything yet. She isn't looking."
He spoke with a confidence that was calming. He spoke like he knew.
Like God himself had let him in on a little secret he was struggling to keep.

"I would love her."
I pouted like an impatient infant.

"You will love her when she needs you to."
He smiled like a father comforting his impatient infant.

"And?" I pleaded. I needed more.

"Be sure she is what you need too."

And with that, he vanished.


*s.mndi