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Bob Carlton

The La Niña Effect

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It was years before I finally understood the problem: my daughter was made of snowflakes. Suddenly, it all made sense. And of course the guilt quickly followed. How can you peacefully teach a blizzard to behave like warm tropical rain? Cycles of punishment, bitterness, and neglect drove inner storms that permafrosted her mind and spirit, a desperate attempt to hold herself together. Can you imagine how I wish I could take it all back? Instead, I am left with her weeping mother and the memory of my anger, the heat that brought that hateful summer. The unrelenting persistence finally broke her. She fell apart, melted, and trickled away, disappearing into a bright and sunny world without love. Now, her tiny face sometimes blooms at dawn, a drooping flower heavy with tears of dew.

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