For the first time.
Silent and half dressed, prostate on your father's bed. Suddenly immobilized. Maybe the thought of the cat only having a week to live. Maybe not wanting to face school, where everything is difficult.
Maybe you are just being a kid. Stubborn (I still am, and it frankly doesn't help. No matter how instinctive)
Don't learn this from your mother (or me for that matter). Silence doesn't help. Neither does getting under the covers.
We see you as something simpler than ourselves, not yet ruined by habit and cynicism. I now know exactly how my mother defines the phrase "beautiful daughter". But I also know that I wince at that, aware all too well of my own failings.
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