your dad always told you it was unmanly to cry. but when you come to me with puffy eyes , i cant think of anything but how masculine you are. its odd to say, but you come to me wanting to talk about how you feel, and its the trust we have between eachother that shows how much you've grown.
i can tell that afterwards you are embarrassed, and that's okay, its how you are. but i want you to know you have nothing to be embarrassed about. i will accept you and learn every twist and turn of your roads.
to me, you are imperfectly perfect. you know you have problems, and you aren't afraid of them. you know you have small habits, and you work on them.
at times i think its your father's fault, for he put these standards onto you at such a young age. when you would cut your hand on the gate to the chicken coop and run to the house with tear stained cheeks, he would look down at your skinny frame and tell you "be a man". because of this, you are afraid and insecure of your emotions.
and when i try to coax them out of you with kisses and peaceful words, it is misunderstood and you think i am teasing you. so i step back, and watch the fire spread while you ask me why I'm not helping. its a cycle. but i accept it.
i will not judge you, for i have wildfires and sometimes they are so out of hand, all the oceans and all the seas couldn't put out. and it is okay! because we have problems, and we have eachother, and we can do this.
