I'm looking at your picture.
You're sitting on the couch
with your sister at your side.
The two of you are holding the new
puppy Daddy brought home for you.

I remember that day well.

After the picture you and your sister
played with Barbie dolls in your room.
Lucky ate one of the doll heads
and both of you were crying.

I held you both and tried
not to laugh.

Your mother said it was your fault
for leaving your dolls on the floor.

You said you would never speak
to "that dog" again.
But that night he was where
he always was,
sleeping on your bed.

What has happened to that little girl, my daughter?
Where is the little voice that used to say "Daddy, hold me"

We've had quite a ride together, you and I.
You've caused me no end of frustration.
No end of aggravation.

You've gone past every point of no return you could go.
Pushed every button I had and even some I had
been unaware of until you pushed them.

We've argued, we've yelled. We've called one
another names and a thousand times I've told you,
"I've had enough!"

You're a fighter, my girl.
As stubborn as I am.

You're facing such a change in your life.
Such a new beginning to a situation
you cannot imagine.

I'm afraid for you, my daughter.
I worry even though you told me
you were fine.
I worry even though you said
"Dad, chill."

I can't "chill", honey.

Just know that whenever you are
overburdened
you've only to say "Daddy, hold me",
and I will.

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