Palms pressed in.

A string of unfortunate events decorated the past weekend. No grand calamities or such, but enough to discourage the already faltering soul. Vows were made prior to this weekend that would shatter the sweetest of smiles. No, it is not yet time. Your fight has only just begun. You knew what you were in for. Stick to it. Such new additions to your equations should foster those earlier hopes and dreams; not deter it.

All over a folded heart.

 

There were simpler days. When joy wasn’t the purchase of that new handbag. When it didn’t matter that you were wearing that same pair of socks for the third day. Those days when searching for tadpoles brought endless hours of bonding. Heads bowed down in yet another laborious art project. Sharing that last piece of pie.

 

But you grow up. You are told that success has its definitions. That pieces of paper signed by certain people made you worth more than others. You start to question “worth” over “value”. Is it really worth my time? Is all that trouble really worth it? Then you start to get ideas over what is “worth it” and what is not. One thing becomes more deserving rather than another. One person becomes more deserving than another. That’s when that sense of entitlement kicks in.

 

You now believe that titles means that certain privileges should just be handed to you, instead of those privileges being recognition of your efforts. Show me what you have to offer before I decide whether I shall deem you worthy. It becomes a contest of who can make the greatest offerings. The gift determines whether or not the person is worthy, and in line with what you are entitled for. Lost is that joy in the gesture. Your fight is now to provide the greatest worth to supplement your entitlement.

 

I hope that I will always retain the gratitude for the gesture. That each gift that comes my way be of great value in my eyes. That I not lose sight of what it means to receive. To have been in someone’s thoughts enough that they decided a token was necessary. That those tokens not be merely of dollar value, but also of great remembrance and affection. That I be gracious and sincere in accepting each and every single blessing.

In the making.

It is not about being perfect. Not about achieving that distant, yet attainable ideal. No. It is that person you become as you go.

I want to become good.
I want to have a kind heart.
A loving soul.
A warm companion.
A strong shoulder.
I want to be able to respect
As well as be worthy of respect.
To be wanted
Even when I am not needed.
To be chosen.
To be fought for.


The road feels endless, but I will enjoy every step of it.

Bruises all over.

Hi Princess,

I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you today. Please wipe away those tears. You are stronger than that. That’s my daughter who refused to let me help when she first moved away to college. A tiny stick of a girl, hefting bags faster than soap boxes across conveyer belts. I had never seen you move so fast. I am proud of you. Remember that. I am proud that you are my daughter. No matter how hard things get, I know you’ll be fine. You’re a fighter. Look at you now. Look at the person you’ve become. Look at what you came from. Look at what you could have easily had handed to you, and look at what you chose to fight for. So many things you thought you would never be able to do, and yet there you are, doing it. Making it happen. No father could ask for more. I wouldn’t trade you for anyone in the world. Ever.

 

I love you Princess.

-Dad.