Flowering. Approach. Part 11: Morning Snack
Listen, my son, to your father’s instruction and do not forsake your mother’s teaching.
Reader discretion is advised: This series contains death, violence, and sexual content. Flowering is not a lighthearted series. Flowering is meant for a mature audience. It is not my intention to mislead those who read it, thus misleading the perception of the series itself, leading your hearts astray.
Please, "take this lesson to heart." - LaRha and Wetah
Eating apple slices with his mother, she talked with him about the stranger. “So, do you want to see her again?”
“Huh?” He looked up at his mother. He didn’t exactly know what she asked him, “Do I want to see who again?”
“The pretty lady,” LaRha smiled at him.
“I didn’t call her pretty.”
“So, what did you call her?”
“I called her beautiful.”
She leaned in, “So, let me ask you again? Do you want to see the beautiful woman again?”
“Well…” he started fumbling and playing with his apple slices, “I guess…”
LaRha smiled, “It’s okay to say if you want to see her again. Trust me, I think women can be very beautiful too. I know because I’m a very pretty woman.” She laughed, and got him to snicker through a smile.
“It’s just… It’s just that you’re my mom. I love you, but I don’t love you like that. You’re pretty, but Dad looks at you like that. I can’t. It just makes me feel weird.”
“Is that why you sometimes sleep on the other side of the mat?”
“He’s maturing faster than I thought,” this perplexed her a bit. “His mind may be naive, but his body isn’t. I’ll have to ask Wetah if he was ever like this at Zephyr’s age.”
“Well then, don’t worry, tons of little boys such as yourself are like that.”
“Where are they?”
“Who are they?”
“The other little boys like me. I haven’t seen any other ones around. I haven’t seen any other little girls around either besides Zaria.”
“What about Xelu?”
“Xelu’s a big girl. She’s older than me, and taller than me.”
“She’ll always be older than you, but she won’t always be taller than you.”
“Really?” His eyes shot open with wonder and amazement. It was the look of hope and upcoming joy.
“Really,” she said, “but only if you eat your food, drink lots of water, and sleep well. That means you have to be warm when you sleep.” He grumbled and turned away from her, “I saw you curled up in a little ball this morning. If you’re cold you should’ve slept close to us.”
“It feels weird. I don’t like the weird feeling.”
“It’s better to feel weird than to sleep cold. Some people who go to bed cold stay asleep cold.”
“They don’t wake up.” His eyes widened with panic. “Some people, not all people. You need to learn when your needs will outweigh your wants. I understand if you wanted to have some space between us last night, but you have to take care of your needs. One of them is being warm.”
“I wish I could have my own blanket.”
“You’ll get one when you learn to make yourself one,” she said, sipping from a bowl of water. “Now, would you like to go gather some fruit for the day, sticks, twigs, and grass for traps?”
“I would,” he nodded. “I’d like to visit the river again. I want to set my traps.”
She laughed and smiled, “You must be careful. What if that woman didn’t come alone?”
He thought to himself. He gulped, “She has a family too?”
“What if there’s a man with her?”
“She’s beautiful, is she not,” she continued to drink.
“Yes, she is,” he answered. Affirming what she thought about him even more.
“Then it only makes sense that a man would be with her,” she set her bowl down. “I’m a beautiful woman. You do not see me out here by my lonesome. Your father came with me. We were together. We are together.”