The first time you told me you were proud of me, I didn’t believe you. I asked for a reason. I asked “why?” 

You told me you’re proud of me just because. That my very existence is enough. 

For you’ve pressed your hope into my body since before I knew what hope could do. 

From the grace of your lips into my mind. You hoped for me. For my brother and my sisters that we would carry ourselves with the love that you carry for us. 

And every time the gray of your eyes set into mine. I’m reminded of who you see me to be.