Somehow, somewhere along the line I got married. And then sometime after that, we had children. Two girls. Our daughters are a couple of years apart in age. They each have the exact same blood running through their veins. One has gold hair and brown eyes. One has brown hair and blue eyes. They’re both skinny. One has crazy hand-eye coordination. The other, crazy artistic abilities. They both have vivid imaginations. One is reserved and cautious. One is outgoing and willing to take risks. They’re both empathetic. But the biggest difference between them is that our youngest is willing to risk her heart. Even after it’s been broken. Whereas if anyone crosses the eldest, she never forgets. And she applies that lesson to every other “like” scenario that follows. With the youngest, she can have her heart ripped in half and then turn around and give it to someone else without thinking.
Agatha Rose may well make it through life fine, like most of us do, following the rules, hitting all the milestones, and doing what’s expected. But Cozette is going to have a truly happy life. You can see it in her eyes. It’s been my experience that a willingness to love, and to risk your heart, is key to happiness. Only, few people in the world today are like this. And those who know better don’t consistently practice the concept. Instead, we’re mostly cynics who protect our hearts as though they were made of glass. Burn us once, shame on you. Burn us twice, shame on us. Sure, Cozette may have her heart broken a thousand times–only because she’s willing to risk it ten thousand times. It’s her willingness to risk that will be rewarded with a remarkable life. Both for her, and for those around her. I feel lucky to be her dad.
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