A year ago we sent our newly minted daughter off to an academic summer program for three weeks. She had been prescribed new medication days before she left and we had cause to worry about possible side effects. We had to arrange a blood test while she was away. We were concerned about her mental health. She was fragile and unstable in ways we couldn't quite fathom, as were we.

What a difference a year makes!

Sunday we took our bright, confident, happy daughter to the airport again. Reflecting on the year since we last sat there waiting to send her off in to the unknown, I realized how damn far we've all come. She passes 100% of the time, we never misgender her or use the wrong name anymore, she is a pleasure to be around (most of the time) and happy in her own skin for the most part. Our family is stronger and healthier, having made it through the hardest year.

On her second day in Texas, C sent me a message:

Look at the poem E wrote me!

There was a screen shot of a stunning piece written by a friend of hers from church. I read it and sobbed. Tears of happiness for our beautiful daughter who found herself, and the friends who have stood by her, encouraged her, loved her, supported her, understood her. For the our oldest child's strength of character to begin this journey, and for the unending patience, love and acceptance from our other two children. For the unquestioning support of our family.

The writer may never fully know the gift she gave to me by gifting this beautiful piece to my daughter. But it truly is a gift to be able to see the physical evidence of love and progress and community. With permission of the author, I share this with you:

Blue, Pink, and White

E. Palmer

Your existence is a rainbow painting in

the dimly lit earth.

You

with your red hair

high heels

and multicolored choker.

Our conversation in the great hall

with Lily, as you shyly confessed

your newness to women's fashion

and apologize profusely for your

skinny, barbie legs.

Our faces illuminated by the morning sheaves of stained glass, the

church is a sacred waiting space.

as we watch you,

baptized by water

come out holy, new.

Beloved sister.

Our C-----.