Dear H

This afternoon, as you sat across the table from me, nearing tears, twirling your hair, getting frustrated over your misplaced pencil, I so desperately wanted to help you.

Instead, I sat and watched you get closer and closer to your breaking point.

You have your father's face, your aunt's voice, and your own unique personality. But for the 30 seconds it took you to realize that your pencil was right there in your hand, I sat back and enjoyed the glimpse of myself in you.

Welcome to my world, kiddo.