Dangerous Compassions

tea color

I told Ming he should buy more shoes, so I could have more black elastic thread to make more necklaces.

Ming spilled tea on his shirt when his hand slipped.  “Are you ok? I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Did you burn yourself?” I asked.

“No, it was cold,” he said.  We laughed.

“Did you freeze yourself?”

“I dyed myself.”

“What color are you now?”

“Tea color.”

“Sounds like a good color to be.”

“I don’t wanna be tea color,” Mom added.

“Maybe you already are,” I said.

“Haters gonna hate,” my nephew said.

“What exactly does that mean?” Mom asked.

We tried to explain.  “You’re just going to do the thing you’re going to do,” my nephew said. 

“There are a lot of variations,” I said.  “Like players gonna play.  Eaters gonna eat.  Breakfast makers going to make breakfast.”

“Bakers gonna bake,” my nephew said.

I bought a small abalone shell from the bead store also.  The sign said it was from Big Sur.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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