Twenty years ago
you arrived like a miracle—
an answer to a question
I did not know;
A reason for a smile
In the midst of Kabul snow
I look back now and remember:
You
waiting behind the door
for me to come home,
Clinging to my legs at every goodbye,
Wrapping around my neck when awake,
and resting in my arms when asleep
Time has been chiselling you
before my eyes,
as you step out of my shadow
and grow new wings to fly.
You stand now at the edge of yourself—
half made of who you have been,
half made of who you are brave enough
to become.
The world will try to hurry you.
Let it wait.
You are allowed to move
at the speed of your own becoming.
The world will try to judge you.
Do not wait.
You are allowed to choose your path.
I know you will choose it right.
And if you ever doubt your worth,
remember this:
you have been loved—
loudly, quietly, fiercely—
since the first moment you breathed.
Twenty is not a number.
It is a doorway.
And you do not have to know
what waits on the other side
to step through it shining.
Happy birthday, my daughter.
The best chapters
are just beginning.
- Appa
