Jaan envies her daughter because she runs with her tiny feet towards the things she loves without inhibition. She screams at the top of her lungs if she wants something (and mostly gets it). And she’s also not afraid to call out on mean aunts.
Jaan wishes to be as brave as her daughter. At least on paper. But she is often crippled by the fear of being misinterpreted, for most adults misinterpret. She has been told she has a tendency to stray far from the point and manages to take no one with her. Often thrown in the deep end of her own jumbled words, she comes up for big gulps of air, flustered and tearful.
But for now, her daughter, curled in her lap, is sucking and biting on Jaan’s arm, jolting her into the present. So she can seek repose in the fact that at least love doesn’t necessarily need words
