05/13/2026
You arrived the day after Mother’s Day-
as if you let that sacred day pass first,
so you wouldn’t steal its spotlight.
Even then,
you made room for others.
When you were about a year and a half,
I placed you on my shoulders-
small hands lifted, waving goodbye-
as I sang,
the most beautiful girl in the world.
Even then,
you never let the world define your beauty.
Yours arrived gently-
without apology,
without explanation.
When Peter came into our lives,
you declared,
“It’s what Mama says.”
And the years-
they stretched you-
your legs, your reach, your soul.
And just like that-
a woman.
Not painted in expectation,
not softened for approval.
You chose your own path-
different,
difficult,
yours.
Sneaker-clad feet
pressing forward,
again and again-
until they stood firm
in places that require courage.
You became one who keeps watch,
who stands between harm and the vulnerable,
who walks into the hard places
with steady breath
and an unshaken center.
And though you laugh about middle age,
the girl I see
is still the one
on my shoulders-
held high above the ordinary-
while I sang a song
that never stopped being true:
the most beautiful girl in the world.
Then.
Now.
And I hope when you stand before the mirror
there is a quiet knowing
a comfort in your own skin,
a recognition
that you are more
than what the world can measure.
You belong to God-
and to me.
And somewhere, still,
soft as a memory,
sure as truth-
it’s what Mama says.
Happy birthday, darling.
I love you.
