Daughter.

I've held your hand since you could grasp mine with your tiny fingers.

Looked into your eyes a thousand times,

and said,

"I love you."

I watched you struggle and fall and pick yourself up, and told you I was proud.

And slowly you began to pull away.

You were afraid and I was afraid of your fear.

What could it mean, these things you couldn't say.

I knew that thoughts were weighing heavy on your heart, each sigh you didn't know I caught as I turned out the lights.

Days passed, weeks turned into months.

You were so sad and I was never sure enough to ask you to tell me why your smile never reached your eyes and lit them up as they did before.

Then there came a day where I knew you needed me to be stronger and I told you what my heart was aware of before my mind understood.

You cried and you asked me if I wished you weren't so complicated. If I wished my daughter could just be like other girls....like normal girls.

But I don't want that. I want you to be yourself. What is normal anyway?

I told you normal was boring, I wouldn't wish you any different than you were at that very moment. I told you "I love you" like I did so many times before. 

But it meant more to us both that day. 

We cried together as the weight of your secret lifted from your shoulders.

And you smiled with a sparkle in your eyes that lit up the world.