With Daniel, he seemed patient even when mistakes piled up, when he tangled fishing lines or left tools scattered in the shed, their father only chuckled and shook his head. With Elise, he softened in ways Miriam had never seen, brushing stray hair from her face before a recital, waiting proudly in the wings with flowers in hand.
Miriam longed for those moments, but they rarely came. When she stumbled, the rebuke was quick. When she asked for help, his sighs came heavier. She began to measure herself against her siblings, quietly tallying every small advantage they received; a longer hug, a better gift, a softer word.