I said. “You’re my daughter.”
I could see that answer confuse her because it refused the clean shape of an argument. I was not absolving her. I was locating her. That is harder to fight.
She laughed, but it cracked halfway through.
“Then act like it. Trust me.”
The old instinct was there, inviting me to smooth it over. To say of course I trust you, honey,continue reading …
