If I ever have a daughter, I’d name her Amara for her grace and her bitterness. I don’t want her to be beautiful, I want her to be bold; to be strong enough to be who she is and not be like someone else. I don’t want her to ‘man up’ or be ‘lady-like’, I want her to portray herself as she is and blend however is best for the situation.
If I ever have a daughter, I’ll make her mind to not believe what others say, I want her to be free – from herself, from society and me. I’ll tell her to never lower her eyes, I want her to stare back in the eyes of whoever looks at her. So that nothing ever scares her.
When I tell her the story about how the knight rescued the princess from the dungeon dragon, I hope she envies the knight. I hope she knows how to be both a warrior and a princess. I want her to be brave enough to kill the dragon herself and not wait on someone to do it for her. I want her to hunt down the monsters that haunt her. I also want her to understand that these monsters come in the best of disguises. Always. Sometimes, it can be hard to overcome them, but I hope she’s strong enough to do the right thing.
If I ever have a daughter, I’ll be her first best friend.
My mother loved me all the same and I know how much it means to the both of us. I want her to be able to trust me just the same. I’ve made some mistakes; maybe she’ll make them too, only I want her to be wise enough to grow out of them. I want her to believe me when I say I’ve been there. Maybe she’ll have better life lessons, bitter life lessons than me – I’ll make sure that she understands that it’s all a part of a bigger plan, getting over some high school jerk should never be troublesome for her.
If I ever have a daughter, I’ll give her everything that I never had, all the love that she deserves, even if it means for me to give up everything else. It’s tough, being a mother. Mine has done a great job since the beginning. I hope I can be like her someday – strong, brave and sensible. Even a little close to close enough would mean the world to me. I want my daughter to feel what I felt, the same sense of responsibility at keeping that bond unbroken between us. I’ll protect her from everything that took away my younger sisters. Losing them was hard; I can’t even imagine that happening to her. I hope she never stays in the grey; I hope she knows to differentiate between black and white.
If I ever have a daughter, I want her to read well. I want her to find out that to be flawed is to be perfect. I want her to go out and face the real world. I want her to get wounded and scarred and hurt, and I want those words to heal her. I want those words to help her understand better, know better. I want those wounds to break her down and help her be – keep her on the ground. I want her to make mistakes because only then will she know the path to being perfect.
I want her to make wrong judgements and rise from them. To always be a better person, I hope she makes all the mistakes that she can.
I hope I have a best friend for a daughter; I hope we share a greater bond; I hope she turns out as good as I hope her to be; most of all, I hope she loves me.