My daughter is nineteen. She's a good kid. She's smart, she knows what she wants in life and works for it.

However, I've realized something: I miss when she was an actual child. She was fearless. This is a kid who would just climb a tree, fall from said tree, then climb again, calling it "her tree." She had a smile that would shatter the worst of moods, and a love that would melt the most icy of hearts. She loved people, and those she told me that gave her a bad vibe, I made sure to look out for.

Then, her mother and I divorced, and I couldn't fight for custody like I should have. She faced abuse, sexual and emotional, and the light of my universe dimmed.

I got custody two years ago, and yes, life is finally right again, but her scars have dimmed her. She doesn't love like she did. She isn't as fearless anymore. She's harmed herself so many times that she risks a permanent hospital stay to help her. My heart breaks for two reasons. One, she's going to eventually move out, which will mean I'll have to deal with an empty home once again, and two, she's probably not going to need me so much any more, which while might be great on the outside, also means it will be lonely again for me.

I'm happy I got her to adulthood, and I spend my days advising her on how to handle her decisions as an adult. I know I'll miss her though.