How We Look
Tracy stood in the kitchen making sandwiches and helping her daughter, six-year-old Grace, with the harder words in a book she was reading about the planets.
As they started Saturn, Tracy's other daughter, four-year-old Mia, dashed in. She was in a wildly frilly pink dress Tracy had found one day at Goodwill. She had also wrapped herself in a long pink shawl and had pinned a huge pink bow to her hair. A dainty pink plastic handbag dangled from her left arm. None of the pinks quite matched.
Mia stopped at the spot where she felt she could have the most impact, and, with a proud, grand sweep of her arms, said: "How do I look?"
Grace peered up from her book with a bewildered expression. After a moment, she seemed to get the question and, in a teacher-like tone, said: "You look with your eyes." Then her eyes returned to the book.
"No, how do I LOOK?" said Mia again.
"You look very beautiful," Tracy said.
"Really?" Mia said.
"Yes, dear, pink is your color. Now, you'd better change before you eat lunch. You wouldn't want to get any food on your lovely clothes."
"Okay," Mia said, smiling as she scampered off.
Tracy turned to Grace, now absorbed in Saturn's rings. "Same womb," she thought, "different worlds."
submitted at 7:07pm
21 June 2011