More than the Moon
“Daddy,” Dorinda whispered, tugging on her father’s sleeve while trying to maintain her balance, crouching on tippy-toes. “See that? Look over there!”
She placed her small hand to his rough face, made rougher by the sand on her skin, and turned it towards the object in question. She signed her question again, trying to keep father and figure in her sight.
He tilted his head to one side, camera balanced on his knee. It was the colorless film this time because that’s what Dorinda chose as they packed their bag this morning. “What do you think it is,” he asked.
Dorinda sucked in her lower lip. “It’s a sea horse.”
“A sea horse,” he repeated with raised eyebrow.
She gave a heavy sigh as her small body went down and her arms went up. “We’re by the sea! It’s a horse! That makes it a-.”
“Sea horse,” he finished. “What is it doing? Longing for the moon?”
Dorinda took her time, reaching for a shell. “The cow already jumped it, Daddy. It wants more than the moon. It wants all the stars together so it’s sooooo bright that there will be light over the pain so no one hurts anymore.”
“How do we help the sea horse?”
She wanted to set it free, un-bury it from the sand so it could fly like Pegasus, but she didn’t want to disturb it. “We leave it alone so it can leave. It doesn’t want us watching.”
Her father nodded, letting her help him to his feet. They found their favorite picnic spot and watched the waves.