the words I needed to hear

You don't know me yet, but I remember you. I know what's happened to you, and it makes my heart sad. There was nothing wrong with you though; it wasn't wrong because of you. You are so small! The grown-ups were supposed to protect you. But they tricked you instead, to make you do what they wanted -- and that was mean. That was really mean, wasn't it? And it made you so confused, how nothing seemed to go the way you thought it should. But you weren't crazy, and you weren't wrong, and just because you're only five it doesn't mean you don't know some things -- like when you feel yucky inside, it's because someone is not treating you right. That is true, even if you're the only one around who can see it.

I want you to know something. If I had been there, if I had had just one glimpse of the photographs, just one minute in your company, I would have known that you were not happy. I would have known that you were trapped. I would have known that someone else's secret was eating you alive. (It wasn't your secret, sweetness. You are only five; you aren't even able to do the kind of things that warrant such secrets.) I know you try hard to be invisible, but I still would have seen you. And I would have smiled, the kind of smile that went all the way to my eyes -- the kind you've only seen a few times, ever -- so that you would know that you were seen.

I know what your daddy said, and the things he did, and I know what your mommy said, and the things she didn't do. If I could be there with you I would tell you that out loud, and I would sit with you and hold you close and cry quiet tears into your hair, and I would wrap my arms around you tight -- but not too tight. Just tight enough so that even if you needed to close your eyes, you would still know that I was there. Then I would take your hand and we would walk out of that place without even bothering to pack. (But you could take your blankie and your baby, if you wanted to.) And if you needed to cry, that would be okay. Because I would know, even if you didn't understand it yet, that you were crying for what you never had, and not really for what you were leaving behind.