“This?” my daughter asks, a fingertip to her lashes.

“Eyes, baby.” Iris, pupil, lens.

She nods. A finger to her lips, “This?”

“Mouth.” Tongue, tonsils, uvula.

She smiles and continues tagging her world with words.

“This?”

“Book.”

“This?”

“Dog.”

“This?”

“Flower.”

Atoms, molecules, cells.

Words cannot encapsulate this brief period of perfect simplicity. Forget progress and power. If only humanity could revert to its purest mindset. Time complicates things.

Her eyelids droop. She’s a flower carrying too much rain, wilting against my chest.

“I love you.”

Those innocent eyes engage, reflect. Her fingertips brush across my cheek. “This.”

“Yes, baby. This.”

J. Lynne Moore is a literacy specialist living near Chicago with her husband, daughter, and two pit bulls. She’s been writing since she could arrange letters into words.

J. Lynne writes travel memoirs for her blog, It’s in the Journey (www.itsinthejourney.com). Her stories are featured in “72 Hours of Insanity (Volume 3)” and “Writings to Stem Your Existential Dread,” as well as online at Every Day Fiction. She was also recently a finalist in NYC Midnight’s Flash Fiction Challenge.

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