Twenty

 

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