09-09-2021, 09:10 PM
Small and spindly as she might be, Margot immediately possesses the fierce strength of her mother. She is clearly Desire’s daughter: the proud tilt of her chin, the coy curve of her smile, the taunting gleam in her eye. As she learns and learns at a rate that seems impossible, her beautiful heritage becomes more and more obvious.
From her father comes a big heart, as wide and as open as the sea’s horizon. Brilliant and gleaming, it practically emits a glow from her chest. As sweet as a summer-ripened plum, one can see her blooming as brightly as the Pampas’ springtime wildflowers. It is almost as the girl knows she is lovely, almost as if one can tell she has an ulterior motive hidden behind those wide doe-eyes.
She is weaving between her father’s legs, giggling as she tries to trip him; and he is staring at her with such adoration in her eyes that she feels invincible.
“I want to run ahead, Daddy!” she tells him, squealing and coming to a stop just ahead of him. Her legs splay out and she swings her head from side to side, watching things in the over-excited way children exist. She then sprints ahead clumsily, only half-listening when Thomas yells for her to not go too far.
Before Margot knows it, she is standing at the River’s edge, staring down at the crystal clear water babbling over pebbles.
“Whoa,” she says, then swings her head around to look for Thomas. He wasn’t there yet, but she is certain he’ll be there soon—he always is.
From her father comes a big heart, as wide and as open as the sea’s horizon. Brilliant and gleaming, it practically emits a glow from her chest. As sweet as a summer-ripened plum, one can see her blooming as brightly as the Pampas’ springtime wildflowers. It is almost as the girl knows she is lovely, almost as if one can tell she has an ulterior motive hidden behind those wide doe-eyes.
She is weaving between her father’s legs, giggling as she tries to trip him; and he is staring at her with such adoration in her eyes that she feels invincible.
“I want to run ahead, Daddy!” she tells him, squealing and coming to a stop just ahead of him. Her legs splay out and she swings her head from side to side, watching things in the over-excited way children exist. She then sprints ahead clumsily, only half-listening when Thomas yells for her to not go too far.
Before Margot knows it, she is standing at the River’s edge, staring down at the crystal clear water babbling over pebbles.
“Whoa,” she says, then swings her head around to look for Thomas. He wasn’t there yet, but she is certain he’ll be there soon—he always is.