MAKE OF OUR HANDS

I didn’t expect perfection from you. I wished you only independence and strength. What I taught hurt you, I know. I did it so you would remember. For the hurts that weren’t lessons, I'm sorry.

The time is long past when I could tell you I was proud of you. Saying the words now means nothing to either of us. You don’t appreciate amateur views into your field of expertise and compliments displease you.

Still, one hears of the things you do and they are mostly good. You’ve kept your heart somehow. I thought you might not; I’m pleased to see I was wrong.

You’ve done well without me, daughter.

FIN