As I write this you’re dancing in the living room with a friend, and I didn’t know it was possible for two small people to make so much sound. 
This morning I woke up to the aftermath of your late night independent brownie baking. 
Earlier this week I found a secret mountain of dirty clothes in the back of your closet. 

But this afternoon, when your therapist called me into her office to share her notes from session,
I forgot every single frustration. 
I couldn’t picture your infamous eyerolls, or recall the sound of your slamming bedroom door. 

When she described what happened long before I was lucky enough to know you, 
I felt your hugs that always catch me off guard, and never last long enough. 
I remembered every clever joke you’ve ever told, and wanted to gather every gift you’ve ever made me. 
And I saw red as I pictured the person who had no regard for the future he was trying to ruin, 
Little did he know that you hold resilience in every curl on your head. 

In this moment, all I know how to do is promise is to keep you safe, 
And I’d really appreciate it if you could turn the music down…