Dear Beloved Daughter,
I need you to stop taking down the photograph of yourself from our fridge. This back-and-forth has been ongoing for weeks. I put it up, you remove it, and then I find it hidden under various kitchen items. Your creativity in concealing it is impressive, but let’s put an end to this game.
I understand that you’re not fond of seeing pictures of yourself. I watch as you scrutinize each one, often with a frown. You take endless selfies, only to delete them moments later, always searching for that perfect shot. I can only imagine the harsh words you direct at yourself regarding your appearance.
You worry about your braces, your hair’s unruly curls on humid days, and your height. I recall feeling the same way at your age, anxious about my own appearance, convinced that my bangs didn’t sufficiently hide my forehead and that my hair just wouldn’t hold a curl. Trust me, I understand.
You know better than to speak negatively about yourself out loud; the lectures I give are tedious and unchanging, and you probably tune me out. I suspect that’s why you haven’t just asked me to take the picture down—you know what my response will be.
But you’re mistaken. I don’t keep putting that photo back up because I want you to appreciate your looks. Believe me, I was the girl who rejected over 25 proofs of my graduation picture. Expecting a teenage girl to like a photo of herself is a tall order.
I place that picture back on the fridge because it captures a moment of pure joy—you laughing with your older brother, both of you completely engrossed in your world, a light-up ball in hand. It reminds me of the playful girl you used to be, someone who didn’t care about others’ opinions.
This photo signifies who you are becoming. You’re seated confidently, shoulders relaxed, independent, and calm amidst our bustling family. I see the girl who helps out without being asked, the one who expresses gratitude, and the thoughtful young woman lingering at Sunday dinners, engaged with the adults long after the younger kids have run off to play.
That picture embodies your transition from girl to woman, a fleeting moment I want to hold onto. Life moves quickly, and sometimes I feel like I’m missing out on who you are amidst the chaos of family schedules and dinner plans. It’s easy to lose sight of you, but in that snapshot, you are unmistakably present.
I replace the photo because the fridge feels incomplete without it. Each time I reach for the milk, I notice your absence. It reminds me of a mother bunny searching for her lost baby in a worn-out storybook. I often find myself wishing for the days when you were still stomping through the house in your soccer cleats.
That picture helps me hold onto you, right here, right now, surrounded by your siblings and your dad and me, anchoring us to our shared memories. Our family story wouldn’t be the same without you.
So, please, leave the picture alone.
With all my love,
Mom
P.S. You are beautiful, smart, funny, and incredibly important to me—more than words can express. I’ll stop before I embarrass you further, but know this, my dear, it’s all true.
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Summary
In a heartfelt letter to her teenage daughter, a mother reflects on the importance of self-acceptance and confidence. She encourages her daughter to embrace her beauty, intelligence, and strength, while reminiscing about the joy captured in a cherished photograph. The mother emphasizes that each moment is precious as her daughter transitions into adulthood.