To Zoe, my little bird, who turned a year this month.  To all the world’s children, with love.

Dear one,

You are so loved.  Truly.

You are breathtaking.

In all of the world, in all time, there will be never be another like you.

So be you.  Be complicated, wonderful you.  The one who is teary eyed with joy-pain, who has reminiscent-laughing-anger and a thousand other hyphenated emotions.

Don’t let them tell you you’re not normal, that you’re too much for being painfully, vibrantly alive.

For the times your head is empty except for the sensual rain on your skin or the all-encompassing joy of an embrace, and the times your mind races with opportunities and consequences and eight hundred and seventy-one other thoughts.  For every complicated bit, my darling.  You are loved.  With a deep, real love that knows you are enough.  In all that you are and all you will be.

For you are not this moment, or the next, or the next.  But a wonderful story that’s only beginning.  You are all of the moments, my love.  And the story will be glorious, so treacherous, so full of love and joy and pain.  It is not one moment that defines you.  So do not be afraid.

You are not, now.  You stared at me with brave eyes before your first steps in the sand.  You throw yourself into our arms, and giggle at crashing waves and big dogs.  You stand wide legged and strong, bracing yourself for the upcoming challenges.  You grow and explore, and discover and grow.

You are amazing.

There will be days.  Days you are not brave at all, but uncertain.  And scared.  But you are so okay.

Continue, my love.  Persevere.  True love endures all things.

Embrace the moments.  The seasons.  The constants and the changes.

I love you.  Always.