I want you to be okay being alone sometimes—to relish the quiet. I want you to embrace the inevitable crap that will also inevitably be your biggest teacher. And please, please, take a moment sometimes to just be still.
I want you to believe in your potential but be aware of your limits. (This means no speeding!)
My daughters, I want you to laugh loudly and not be embarrassed to be silly.
My daughters, I want you to smile at strangers. (This will also make you happy.)
I want you to know when to fight back and when to walk away. (See above for more on this.)
I want you to be relentless but know when to stop.
I want you to take care of yourself and others. (The order in which you do those things will switch by the day.)
Don’t overuse “I’m sorry.”
Do overuse “I love you.”
Don’t get in cars with strangers.
Do learn how to drive manual.
Don’t lie, don’t steal, don’t cheat.
Do the right thing. (I’m here to help you out with that.)
And by God, every time you fall, you dust off that beautiful face, grit those teeth I’m gonna pay thousands of dollars to straighten out, take a deep breath, and march on, baby.
The world may never be perfect, but to me, you are.
***
A version of this post originally appeared at sonniabatta.com, published with permission.
