If I should have a daughter,
I would teach her that
the idea “when one door closes another one opens”
is false,
and even if things don’t always happen for her,
she can make them happen
because if things come easy,
they’re probably not good enough for her anyways.

And I would show her that
the harder the door slams in her face
the better
because that gives her all the more reason
to bust it back open again.

And I would tell her that
although that door may be closed,
it still could be unlocked,
and even if it’s not,
she’ll find a key behind another door
or even in her pocket when
she didn’t know she had it all along.

And I would teach her that
the endgame is happiness
and no matter how she finds it
or doesn’t,
I’ll support her
and offer her a hand to guide her
down the next hallway
because life will not pause,
no matter how much she’ll wish it to be so.

And I would show her that
setbacks are not the end
through telling stories
of my failures and defeats
until her ears bleed
because, yes, I’ll have a million.
and the more she knows, the more she’ll know -
about life and the strength it takes to succeed,
for those doors will be made of the strongest oak
and may be difficult to push open alone.

And I would teach her of
the important things, of family and friends,
and that that love is both incredibly delicate and strong
and not to take that strength for granted
because those doors, while not as often,
can close, too.

And I would love her
for who she is
and not let her feel alone
because to feel alone
is to feel unwanted and unloved,
and that she would never be.

And in time she would see that
my hand she would always have
ceaselessly guiding her toward,
pointing her to,
and helping her open the next door,
until the day she realizes her path
or until the day mine fades away.