The Daughter That Waited On The Steps
There is a unique kind of grief that comes from loving someone who is still alive, yet never truly shows up for you. It isn't a grief marked by funerals or condolences. It's a quiet mourning that begins in childhood and, if left unhealed, follows us into adulthood. There are wounds that leave bruises. Then there are the wounds that quietly build a home inside a child's heart. Some children wait for bedtime stories. Some wait for birthdays. Some wait for Christmas morning. And some... Wait on front steps.... Those front steps is where my story begins... I remember the ritual better than I remember my father's face. I'd wake before the sun because today was the day. He said he was coming. He promised we'd spend the day together. I'd carefully choose my prettiest dress, button my little shoes, smooth my hair, and study myself in the mirror. I thought if I looked beautiful enough... He would remember me. He would choose me. Then I'd w...
