“Papa, why did Maa wear flowers in her hair?”

My hands stilled for the briefest of times.

My smile wavered, but I kept it on.

My eyes stung with unshed tears,

tears that I blink away and glance at the photograph of us

on my bedside table.

“Because, she wanted to smell good all the time.”

As I finished braiding my daughter’s hair,

securing it with elastic bands with fake flowers,

she said, “Is that why you don’t let me wear flowers?”

I winced at her words.

How do I tell my second love of my life that

she is the splitting image of my first love?

That the only difference between them

are the flowers?

I told her, the standard “dad” reply,

“You’ll know when you get older.”

Well, it could’ve been better, but oh.

Lookie! I got myself a header! That I created all by myself!

I’m attempting Rebirth in April with Parvathi. Go check out her poems. They’re beautiful!

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