If I Should Have a Daughter

If I should have a daughter,

I would teach her that

the idea “when one door closes another one opens”

is false,

and even if things don’t always happen for her,

she can make them happen

because if things come easy,

they’re probably not good enough for her anyways.

And I would show her that

the harder the door slams in her face

the better

because that gives her all the more reason

to bust it back open again.

And I would tell her that

although that door may be closed,

it still could be unlocked,

and even if it’s not,

she’ll find a key behind another door

or even in her pocket when

she didn’t know she had it all along.

And I would teach her that

the endgame is happiness

and no matter how she finds it

or doesn’t,

I’ll support her

and offer her a hand to guide her

down the next hallway

because life will not pause,

no matter how much she’ll wish it to be so.

And I would show her that

setbacks are not the end

through telling stories

of my failures and defeats

until her ears bleed

because, yes, I’ll have a million.

and the more she knows, the more she’ll know -

about life and the strength it takes to succeed,

for those doors will be made of the strongest oak

and may be difficult to push open alone.

And I would teach her of

the important things, of family and friends,

and that that love is both incredibly delicate and strong

and not to take that strength for granted

because those doors, while not as often,

can close, too.

And I would love her

for who she is

and not let her feel alone

because to feel alone

is to feel unwanted and unloved,

and that she would never be.

And in time she would see that

my hand she would always have

ceaselessly guiding her toward,

pointing her to,

and helping her open the next door,

until the day she realizes her path

or until the day mine fades away.