Learning Moments

The Cheerios are spread across my tray. I am locked into my highchair trying to feed myself. The kitchen is small, the vintage wood cooking stove takes up most of the space and attracts most of my attention. I am alone.

My mother left. She was screaming at my father, and then dragging my sister by the arm, she slammed the door - leaving me behind.

I want another bottle. I begin to cry.

I want my father to know I need more milk.

In the next room I hear the television turn on. I see my father walk by the entranceway carrying a bottle. He sits in a lounge chair out of my sight, but I see his smoky exhale.

I continue to cry.