Nine proud candles flickered on your birthday cake today, each one marking a year filled with delicious wonder, curiosity, and the tender magic of you. I can’t phantom anymore how I was ‘me’ when you were not yet here. How quickly time moves, how dramatically drastically do you complete me! It feels like only yesterday that I held you -in awe, and a bit scared- for the very first time, marvelling at this tiny little pink new person in my arms. Now, 8 years later, here you are—a radiant strong young girl with a mind as pure and as bright as the stars you love to gaze at.
I cherish our story times, whether I’m reading to you or you’re reading to me. In those incredible moments, I see whole worlds come alive in your eyes. You bring such richness and depth to every tale, every character, painting pictures with your words that no book -and certainly no movie- could fully capture. And as you grow, I feel your gentle pull towards independence—a slow, steady letting go of my hand as you start to carve out your own way. I’m always here, though, my hand ready whenever you need it, proud to watch you take these steps on your own.
You take in the world with an open heart, not shying away from its darkness—the confusing mess of prejudice, of racism, of bullying, the painful remnants of global conflicts that shouldn’t be, the idiocy of conflicting religions, the innocent lives caught -and lost-in adult battles. Yet you also see its light. You see the helpers, the healers, the teachers, the brave ones who show up every day to make a difference. And you understand both sides, balancing your view with a wisdom that surprises me time and again.
Your questions, Tara, are endless—and they are everything. I watch as you untangle life’s mysteries with an unquenchable thirst for understanding. You ask the right questions, and you are relentlessly hunting for answers. Your pure empathy is a gift, one that sometimes overwhelms you, but it fuels you with a fierce and unyielding compassion. You feel deeply, totally, and even when you’re hurt, you instinctively reach for kindness, for healing. There’s a quiet bravery in you, an unwavering belief that good can prevail, that understanding can heal.
Your creativity knows no bounds. You build stories and worlds with dolls and words, you bring ideas to life with code, and you lose yourself in music, making melodies that feel like a dreamscape. From writing tales, to cooking mint leaves, from Lego’s to starry nights and a plethora of other things, you explore the whole lot with endless curiosity. You marvel at everything from a tiny snail on a leaf in a bowl, to the vastness of the universe, and I see in you an inquisite spirit that is both playful and profound.
I love your boldness, my “red monkey.” You’re not a follower, not a sheep; you don’t just blend in. You question, you challenge, and you carve out space for yourself in a world already so full. You make room not by taking it from others, but by shining a light that lets everyone around you glow just a little brighter.
I’m not worried about what you’ll do, because I see who you’re becoming. You will do the right thing, and you will do it right. You’re steadily growing into a person of depth, of kindness, of strength. Whatever you choose to pursue, I know you’ll walk your path with integrity and courage. Nothing makes me prouder.
So, as you blow out your nine candles, my wish for you is this: that you continue to be wonderfully, unapologetically you. May your light always shine as brightly as it does today, illuminating your journey and, in its own way, lighting up the world for others.
Happy 9th birthday, my incredible Tara. The world is a better, brighter place because you’re in it.
All my love,
Dad
