to my daughters
my daughters.
juniper robin.
lucy helena.
elladyne estelle.
clara presley.
you don't exist, and you never will. but your names stay close to my heart. i keep them in my soul like beautiful secrets, like flowers pressed in a book. though you'll never be brought to this earth, i love you so dearly.
i would raise you so differently than i was raised. my girls, you would never have to wonder if you were good enough; i'd say it over and over. you would never be nervous to come home with a bad grade, or be too scared to tell me that you need help. i wouldn't tell you that you needed makeup to be presentable, i wouldn't make you sit still for the curling iron if you didn't want to. you would never come out of the bathroom covered in bandaids because you were learning how to shave alone. you would never have to watch videos of how to do your own hair and makeup because no one bothered to teach you.
i would teach you about the world. you'd never go through life thinking money meant love, or that mistakes meant you weren't worthy of that love. i wouldn't drag you to a church to hear about how every move you make is sinful. i would never scare you into thinking that love is wrong. my girls, this world is cruel, and love is all we have to fight against that cruelty. i would raise you to believe you are worth so much. i would not sit idly by while you suffered alone.
i would encourage you to be excited about everything. i would never dismiss your passions. i wouldn't call you too excited or too loud or too much. nobody told me the things i loved were worth celebrating, but you would hear it from me over and over. you would never have to wonder if your mama was proud of you, i would tell you all the time.
my daughters. sometimes i wish i could bring you into this world. i wish i wasn't so angry, so sharp. that anger runs deep, too deep to ever dissipate. so impossible to fix that the thought of you becoming real terrifies me. but oh, my daughters, you are loved, so loved.
