into the light of a dark black night

I ask myself a lot if I'm parenting her well.

Tonight I heard her crying in her room, and knocked on the door. She told me she's upset because sometimes she just can't do anything right. I know how she feels. Sometimes I still feel that way even now, let alone when I was twelve. I hugged her and rocked her and told her just that, and that she does so many many many things right.

Sometimes I ask myself if things would have been different if my mum had come into the room to ask what was wrong when I was twelve years old and crying. I understand why she didn't. But I still wish it had been different. I want to make sure she grows up whole.

As I write this, I hear Shawn talking to her softly as he tucks her in.
We're doing okay, I think.



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