I’m scrolling through the sixty new pictures that my fifteen-year-old daughter, Harmony, just sent me. All of the pictures that now dominate my photo gallery are snapshots that span her life from toddlerhood to adolescence. Looking at everything I missed as a father is bittersweet. Prison took the best years of my life, and kept me from being present during those tender, irreplaceable moments.

“This is your father, and I love you.”