You Are Not Late

I started out believing

parenting was the sacred work

of preparing a child

for every transformation ahead,

of placing the right words in your mouth,

the right road beneath your feet,

the right kind of courage in your chest.

And now you are fifteen,

standing near sixteen,

an age the world often treats

as a crossing.

Our ancestors understood

that transformation should be purposeful,

that becoming is not simply growing older,

but awakening to what is already

living within you.

And I know, Asa Pearl,

you are approaching

the next stage of your becoming.

So I have begun

to change the way I love you.

I have begun to stop trying

to tell you what every silence means.

I have begun to stop naming every cloud

before you have the chance

to look up

and call it something of your own.

Because you were never unfinished.

You were simply arriving

in a language

I had not yet learned.

Perhaps the deepest work

of a father’s love

is to stand close enough

to catch his child if she falls,

but far enough away

that she can discover

she has wings

without believing

they belonged to him.

I cannot promise

the world will recognize your beauty

when it sees you.

The world has always been impatient

with anything

still becoming itself.

But I will not hurry you.

I will not mistake your questions

for weakness,

your wandering

for failure,

or your changing

for confusion.

A flower does not apologize

because yesterday

it was only green.

And you, my child,

do not owe anyone

an early blooming.

Not the world.

Not time.

Not even me.

Take every season you require.

Become unfamiliar to me

as many times as you need.

I will keep learning

your new name.

Because parenting is not the art

of making a child

resemble your dreams.

It is the discipline

of loving someone

whose future has refused

to ask your permission.

So this is my promise:

I will guide you

without making my road your prison.

I will protect you

without making my fear your burden.

I will stand near enough

that you will never doubt

you are loved,

and far enough away

that you will never mistake

my love for your limits.

You are not behind.

You are not lost.

You are not unfinished.

And, Asa Pearl

You are not late.