Dearest daughter, I’m sorry for every time I’ve failed you. For neglecting to portray the consummate woman—aka wife, mother, sister, daughter, aunt, friend—or implying that level of excellence is even attainable. I’m sorry if you’ve questioned my love for you, or your worth as a human being. I’m sorry you’ve carried many of your heaviest burdens without me, and that I haven’t hugged you enough—or told you enough—how remarkable you are and the lavish ways you’ve enriched my life since you squawked your arrival. How you’ve taught me what a life free from pretense looks like filtered through the lens of unconditional forgiveness, compassion, acceptance and grit. Because of you, I desire to be a better person— “real people.” And I hope you grasp the goodness of your heart, the beauty of your wings and that the world needs what you have to offer. Thank you for the opportunity to try again each time I fall short. You bless me more than I deserve.