Hey Kiddo

In a way, you are like my firstborn - even though I didn't birth you, even though I didn't meet you until you were 14 years old... Never before has a young person put so much trust in me, never before has anyone, in a very real way, put their life in my hands...

You scared me, Kiddo. You terrified me a couple of times. When you told me of taking the gun in your hands and putting it to your temple... I wish you'd called me, kiddo. I wish you'd realized more fully that when I said anytime I really meant it.

I love you, kiddo... I don't know why exactly, but it runs very deep. The thought of you lying in a pool of your own blood... I can't even finish the thought... I love you kiddo. Even though you broke your promise. Is it arrogant to think that this love may be the reason you're still alive?

You love me, kiddo. I have no doubt that you do. And maybe it was this love that made you listen, that made you notice that I cared, that made my caring mean something.

That's why I love you, kiddo. Because you make every gesture mean something. Because when I admitted that I had to do research to figure out how to help you, instead of knocking me off the pedestal, it nearly made you cry to think that I went to so much trouble for you. Because the hours of happiness something gives you are more than the amount of time it takes to do it. Because the box I made you still has value two years later, while most others would have quasi-forgotten about it by now...

You're 18 now, kiddo. And I don't know if you realize it, but this is thrilling and terrifying at the same time. But your parents will still fight you hard for control. And you will probably think that they deserve it, as long as you are living under their roof. But it's your life, not theirs. And I think their threats are empty. But, if they're not, and the price they ask starts to seem too high, remember: you will always have a place with us.