You are not my daughter—
you are the daughter
of his late brother.

But everyone used to say
you looked like me,
that you could have easily
been mine.

And that was fine.
I called you princess,
because you are.

I don’t know
when you will realize this,
but the place you’re growing up in
is a hard one.

I won’t say I miss you,
but I wonder—
do you ever miss me?

Because in the few moments
we shared,
you clung to me,
you painted my face,
brushed my hair,
and for a while—
I became a princess
in your kingdom.

I hope the little time we had
was enough to show you
there is more to life.

Never stop dreaming, Nic.
You can go far.
All it takes
is believing.