The Last Letter

by Rebecca Yarros

At five years old, my kids are already better people than I will ever be, and I’m ridiculously proud of them. But I’m not the center of their universe. I’m more like their gravity. Right now I’ve got them locked down tight, their feet on the ground, their path obvious. It’s my job to keep them there, close to everything that keeps them safe. But as they get bigger, I get to loosen up just a little, stop tugging so hard. Eventually, I’ll get to set them free to fly, and I’ll only reel them in when they ask, or

Because while all men can be fathers, not all of them are qualified to be daddies, and theirs just wasn’t.”