Better than me

She turned out better than me. More happy, considerate, loving, content, caring, measured, calm, no hang-ups, more peaceful, less demanding, more patient, more accommodating, more tolerant and less materialistic.

I fought with her and made her cry. Threw her dolls through the window to the neighbor’s yard. She followed my paths, but ended up in a better place.  

I didn’t care enough, do enough and took her for granted most of the time. But none of it mattered, she turned out to be more childlike and without any complexes or worries.

She has come through the fire and still must be suffering enough, but has achieved a Zen like calm.

She got my used books all the time. I demanded and got the best food or whatever best of what we got. I didn’t know enough and I was selfish. She deserved to be happier.

She worked hard and I enjoyed more. I got more of the space, attention, money and care and I didn’t share enough. I thought I knew what is best for her, passing judgment, without spending enough time and caring to find out more. But in spite of all that, she was blessed.