Sometimes You Don’t Need Words

I try to make Malia feel better.

It’s okay, I say.

She scowls, her eyes tighten.

I’m just glad you

yelled my name.

Does it take an earthquake

to bring your voice to life?

We squeeze the blanket one more time,

get our stuff, walk back up

the path toward her house.

On the way, Malia touches the bark

of every tree on the path,

and so do I.