here is something i would love to tell ten-year-old me:

stop. take a minute. look at your parents. look at how much they love you. sure you are young, but god, Kira, you've always understood deeply. and i know you can understand this.

love them hard. love them outright and outspokenly and through good conversation. love them by being utterly you- but a little less complaining. love them by hiking up that mountain with a smile on your face because they'll be so proud. and their pride is all you want.

but most importantly, you'll have so much less time with him.

at eleven:
go out to the garden he's building, help. or just sit on the deck and talk about your day. talk about how you remember writing the song about Addie. talk about your favorite color and how it brought you and April closer together. talk about how much you love annoying mommy. talk about how one day the boys will be in college and it'll just be you three at home and how you can knock the wall down between your closets and have two rooms. just talk, Kira, talk, and talk and talk.

at twelve:
when he reads your poems, explain. tell him how you agree the pain was partly diffusion. that surely you're so empathetic you took on the sadness. but also it's real. what you feel is valid and explain. tell him sometimes it hurts so much you really don't want to live. but you agree. that it didn't really affect you until she said something. that it really didn't need to affect you at all. cry into his chest and let him hug you. let him solve all the problems you can think of with his presence.

at thirteen:
when he explains his religious views, understand him. ask more questions than you thought you needed. let the conversation go into his childhood and learn about that. experience peace rallies and disappointed parents and how that turned him into an atheist. let those ideas influence you. let his, maybe not award winning but still pretty intelligent, words influence your own thoughts.

and at fourteen:
when he takes your picture, smile. he wants to document your middle school graduation. he wants to see you with the people you've grown up with and stood out from. he wants your walk down the elementary halls to be meaningful because he knows it is. when he calls you beautiful, it's because you are. it's because your his daughter and his muse and his reason for protecting and pushing.

at fifteen:
when he's playing the music, listen. get off your phone. ask him questions. ask him what his first concert was. ask him when and who he went with and what he did. ask him who he first fell in love with. just because you'd like to know what life was like before mommy. just because you'd like to know everything about his life. ask him why he loves the folky songs he does. what it means to him. what a song with a story means to him. when he's playing the music appreciate that his hands work, and his breath isn't fake, and his body can move. ask for a beer so you can have one together.

and then:
when he's in the hospital, tell him you love him. don't cry. don't whimper and pity. don't think about whether or not he's in pain. just speak. just say it all like you should've throughout your life. tell him how grateful you are, how excited for summer you are, how much you love him and love him and love him and love him and how much you hope he knows. when he's looking at the boys in their prom tuxes, say that'll be you in a few years. make everyone groan. do your 'little sister' bit. he smiles at that. make a funny face, kiss his cheek, remind him you love him so so sos ososososos much, say it more even after it becomes cheesy. say it so much it doesn't sound like a real word anymore. say it so much you have to get dragged out of his room. say it for every day of your life, every birthday, every minute, every important event he was there for and everything he has to miss.

just be there. be present. be real, Kira.