You Are My Daughter
She was not Caleb’s girl.
She was not a guest.
She was our daughter, chosen and cherished and, at last, wholly and permanently safe, and she had learned something that Christmas that I hope she carries her whole life: that she was never the one who was too small to matter, that the people who truly loved her would build their whole house around her belonging, and that sometimes the smallest, most overlooked person in the room turns out to be the one holding the key to everything.
In the three years since that Christmas, a great deal has changed, and almost all of it for the better.
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