Oh my dear young lady, burning with a love of all things pink and good, she is full of the self that I once was but have long forgone. Bright eyes that see with a love of the world that is so far unblemished and perfect in its belief. A body that is still small enough to envelop, but not for much longer. As has always been with her, a certainty of self that often dwarfs my own. That is what her father has given her, and if I have imparted kindness to her than that is enough for now.
