My dearest girl — you made it to twenty-one. Not just the number, but everything that came with it: every late night that turned into something beautiful, every hard morning you got through anyway, every version of yourself you had to outgrow to make space for the one you're becoming right now.

Twenty-one is a funny thing. People will tell you it's the moment you truly begin — but you and I both know you have been fully, extravagantly alive long before today. You have been building your world with such care and such quiet fire.

"

She was the kind of woman who carried lightning in her laughter and the whole ocean in her silence.

I think about all the things that happened before twenty-one: the trips that didn't go perfectly but went exactly right, the music that became part of your bones, the places you visited that left little invisible stamps on your heart. You've already collected so many beautiful things — stories, spaces, people who love you back.

And this next chapter — it's yours. All yours. The kind of freedom that comes with twenty-one isn't about doors opening. It's about finally trusting yourself to walk through them. You have always known the way. You were just learning to believe it.

May twenty-one be the year you choose yourself first, let yourself be adored without apology, chase the things that make your chest go tight with wanting, and say yes to every version of your life that still feels like a dream.

"

Here's to every birthday that felt too big — and turning the biggest one of all into something you'll carry forever.

You are loved beyond anything I know how to write down. But I'll keep trying. Happy twenty-first birthday, beautiful girl.