I see you looking in the mirror and all you can see are the flaws he pointed out about your hair or your skin or your eyebrows. I see you struggling to see them as features rather than flaws. I see you trying to remember the last time he made you feel beautiful and I see you trying so hard to accept yourself.

At one point, my relationship with my father was such a struggle that I assumed we’d be estranged as soon as I moved out of my parents’ house. Thankfully, the older I got, the more my father and I managed to understand each other.