My daughter, have I told you that you are the strongest person I know?
There are plenty of people who would think me crazy for saying that, you being six and all. But that's just because they don't know you.
I love taking you places and watching you walk around like you own the place. A few feet ahead, head held high, confident stride. I've seen it too many times to believe that its just bravado. I think you mean it. You're not afraid. You are so little, and you have so many reasons to be afraid. But you aren't. The other day when I took you to school, I was afraid. Your class and teacher had already gone inside, and I was sure this would put you into a panic. But it didn't. "Bye, daddy." you said, walking confidently towards the school. You weren't afraid. You are so strong.
I love watching you learn new things, because I know every time I do I'm going to see what determination and persistence really look like. Bicycle, monkey bars, roller blades - you didn't know any of these things when you came here, but you've tackled and conquered them all. If you fall a million times, you get back up a million and one. With every try, I watched your confidence grow stronger right along with your muscles. While you might be a little nervous at first, you aren't afraid. Not really. You are so strong.
I don't really know all that you have been through, but I know enough. You have had to deal with so much loss at such a young age, and yet you are so positive, so full of life, so strong. But sometimes I worry that you don't know that you don't need to be. Not all the time. When we talk to you about Ethiopia, your village, and the people we met, I know we are treading on ground that must be filled with deep sadness for you. But many times you respond with a sort of over-the-top nervous silliness that makes me wonder - are you trying to hold that sadness at bay? Do you think we don't want you to be anything but strong? Then there was the time you dumped a glass of water on me, and I snapped angrily. You went to sit on the steps. When I approached you, you looked at me in a way I had never seen before and asked quietly, "Daddy love Aberash?" The way you asked that question made me want to weep, because it left me know doubt you meant it. You didn't know of COURSE I love you. Don't know that I always will.
There is a part of me that knows how good it is that you are strong, and wants to nurture it. To watch your muscles and your confidence and your perseverance grow. They are tools that serve everyone well, and I know you are going to need them. But you are six, and no six year old should have to live their life thinking they always need to be strong. I want you to know that you don't need to be. If you fall one million and one times and just don't have it in you to rise, I'll be there to pick you up. I'll dust you off, give you a hug, and dry your tears if you need. I'll be your strength anytime you need me to. I promise.
Because I love you, my beautiful daughter. I love your intelligence, your humor, and your strength. I love the way you light up a room when you walk in, the way you draw attention. I love the fact that it seems like NOTHING can stop you. But on those times where you feel otherwise, I want you to know it's OK. Because I love you, my beautiful daughter.
And I always will.
There are plenty of people who would think me crazy for saying that, you being six and all. But that's just because they don't know you.
I love taking you places and watching you walk around like you own the place. A few feet ahead, head held high, confident stride. I've seen it too many times to believe that its just bravado. I think you mean it. You're not afraid. You are so little, and you have so many reasons to be afraid. But you aren't. The other day when I took you to school, I was afraid. Your class and teacher had already gone inside, and I was sure this would put you into a panic. But it didn't. "Bye, daddy." you said, walking confidently towards the school. You weren't afraid. You are so strong.
I love watching you learn new things, because I know every time I do I'm going to see what determination and persistence really look like. Bicycle, monkey bars, roller blades - you didn't know any of these things when you came here, but you've tackled and conquered them all. If you fall a million times, you get back up a million and one. With every try, I watched your confidence grow stronger right along with your muscles. While you might be a little nervous at first, you aren't afraid. Not really. You are so strong.
I don't really know all that you have been through, but I know enough. You have had to deal with so much loss at such a young age, and yet you are so positive, so full of life, so strong. But sometimes I worry that you don't know that you don't need to be. Not all the time. When we talk to you about Ethiopia, your village, and the people we met, I know we are treading on ground that must be filled with deep sadness for you. But many times you respond with a sort of over-the-top nervous silliness that makes me wonder - are you trying to hold that sadness at bay? Do you think we don't want you to be anything but strong? Then there was the time you dumped a glass of water on me, and I snapped angrily. You went to sit on the steps. When I approached you, you looked at me in a way I had never seen before and asked quietly, "Daddy love Aberash?" The way you asked that question made me want to weep, because it left me know doubt you meant it. You didn't know of COURSE I love you. Don't know that I always will.There is a part of me that knows how good it is that you are strong, and wants to nurture it. To watch your muscles and your confidence and your perseverance grow. They are tools that serve everyone well, and I know you are going to need them. But you are six, and no six year old should have to live their life thinking they always need to be strong. I want you to know that you don't need to be. If you fall one million and one times and just don't have it in you to rise, I'll be there to pick you up. I'll dust you off, give you a hug, and dry your tears if you need. I'll be your strength anytime you need me to. I promise.
Because I love you, my beautiful daughter. I love your intelligence, your humor, and your strength. I love the way you light up a room when you walk in, the way you draw attention. I love the fact that it seems like NOTHING can stop you. But on those times where you feel otherwise, I want you to know it's OK. Because I love you, my beautiful daughter.
And I always will.
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