The next day, I filed a police report to protect Avery and myself. But the most important act was reaffirming to her, once again, that she was my daughter in every sense that mattered.
She reached for my hand, squeezing it tight. And in that simple gesture, the peace I had been missing returned.
Thirteen years ago, a little girl decided I was “the good one.” And every day since, I’ve chosen her, over and over, through exhaustion, fear, and chaos.
Family isn’t about blood. It’s about showing up, staying present, and choosing each other — every single day. Avery chose me in that ER when she was scared and alone. And I choose her every morning, every challenge, every moment.
That’s what love looks like. Not perfect. Not easy. But real, unshakable, and forever.
