Morningside Cuesta well we can't call it pup; it needs a name

Day looked down at his coal-dark daughter, an inexplicable sorrow growing in his heart. Gently, he traced the the short, stubbly lines of folded little ear, wondering why the tiny girl had evoked these feelings in him.

"She looks like Sunny," he realized. She looked like both of them had, when they were little like this. Day stared down at the girl and saw Dawn's anger (so like his own) and Sunny's rejection, and the rift that'd grown between father and son, son and daughter - "Easy," he said, his throat feeling stiff and unweildy, as though it didn't want to allow him to speak the words on his mind. But he forced them out because Akuti was right there beside him, and he wanted her to understand; knew that she wanted to understand. "I just want - " There was no end to the things he wanted - "I just want things to be easy. Her, these kids, Sunny and Dawn... This one's called Easy."

He looked at his wife, hoping she wouldn't argue but half-expecting it anyway.