She walks across the podium, head held high, arm outstretched ready to receive the diploma she’s worked so hard to get. The time away from home, the hours spent studying, figuring out a new country without any family to rely on…it’s been alot.

I’ve wanted to be here for her, in whatever way I can. But part of me, the tiny part that I try desperately not to let out, resents her. Her lack of familial duty, her ability to pack up her life and leave whenever she wanted, her young body, the support of her parents. Where was my support? Nothing I did was ever good enough. If I scored As on my report card, my parents asked why it wasn’t an A+. When I was featured in top lawyers under 40, my mother asked why my portrait wasn’t on the magazine’s front page. I couldn’t leave because they needed me. Since I could read I’d been translating bills and paperwork and taxes for them. How could I ever just pack up and leave and study across the ocean?

She looks for me from the podium, eyes seating the crowd desperately until she finds mine. She gives a tiny wave and I remember the little girl she was. And despite everything she has that I wished was mine, I’m happy for her. My daughter.