This Is To The Little Girl I Saw Today

I was about ten steps behind you and the moment I saw you, I thought, ‘god I miss being like that’.

I think you reminded me of me, at your age – that’s about five. Your hair was let down and you were in a white cardigan and comfy pink shorts, and silver ballerina flats that you probably know as shiny grey shoes. And you were holding your father’s hand. I felt like everything was so familiar, even though I’d never seen my back view, or the way I walked, or how my arm used to be a little awkwardly placed because Pa’s hand was, well, a little too high up for tiny me.

I couldn’t tell whether your father was walking at your pace or you at your father’s pace but it seemed so natural, so comfortable, so free from the worry of falling behind and never catching up again. It’s as if your pace and speed and style was independent of everybody else’s and it didn’t matter at all; the working adults could never bring themselves to hurry a kid with her little strides.

On the train you were sitting while your father was standing right by you, and the distance between your feet and the ground you could not reach made me realize that you still have some time to stay that way –

Wait, no. I hope you have a forever to stay that way

And when i turned to look at you, you were yawning and rubbing your eyes. It was understandable, though; 9.30pm for you was probably thirty minutes to bedtime. But my point is,

I hope that the tiredness you feel will always only be known by yawns and droopy eyes, that can simply be slept away over a night, and not haunt nor taunt for days on end. I hope that when your bedtime is pushed back by five hours, some ten years down the road, it will be because you’re driven by your goals and running on caffeine to achieve something big, and not trying desperately to fall asleep while fighting the idea of feeling small.

I hope that you will grow up to hold your father’s hand the way you did just now, to find comfort in his touch and security in his presence, and most of all, to never forget that along the way, whether or not you find somebody who loves you like he did, to stride on at your own pace, in your own place.

And I hope that one day when you learn that silver is a color just as it is a valuable, you will still defend that shiny grey isn’t all that wrong.

It’s 12.31am, I hope you’re asleep, and you’re dreaming of all the things that (will) keep you happy.

Good night, sleep tight.

Shoutout to Pa, for being the first man to hold my hand, the first man to love me, and for always, always being proud of me.