I look at her,
in all of her thirteen year old glory.
in her thirteen year old gloom.
I wonder what it is, that I could have done different,
to save her.
To show her,
that life is not as unforgiving as it may seem.
I know there is not much.

She looks back at me,
in our twenty-four year old glee,
our twenty-four year old frustration.
I know she is proud.
She knows we are still trying,
and she looks back at me every time I look in the mirror,
and I see her, us, and me.

We look at each other,
in this unyielding era,
she knows that we are finally free.
I know this is something I can give her,
she knows this is something worth waiting for.
So she waits, to become me, and us, and her.