With fierceness she fights us,

Pushing and pulling away to independence.

Her anger at rules, her rage at her position becomes blinding.

She notes that nothing in this house is really hers, not even her furniture.

She mocks our reminders that she is in control of herself, so angry we control everything else.

And it shocks me at times for I didn’t think this fight would start so young.

But the stubbornness should not surprise me, for it was destined when such an obstinate young man met such a stubborn young lady who both like so much to be right –oh how we like to be right.

But at night, oh at night.

The fierceness subsides and the child comes out.

The child that climbs in our arms and listens to our hearts.

The child that reveals her fears and trusts us implicitly.

The child that is slowly slipping away as the outside world slips in and I yearn for this time to never end.

Will she still come to us later? Will she remember these nights and know we need them as much as she does?

Will this fierceness that burns inside of her allow her to ask for help, will it put up a wall, and when it does will she leave us a door?

I know we will scale that wall if we must.

But I will still pray for a door.
Please, please let her leave us a door.