13

I’ve been trying to think of a way to measure what these years have meant, and nothing feels accurate.

It’s not just time. It’s everything that was lived inside of it.

You’ve been there through every version of my life. Quietly, consistently, never asking for anything more than to stay close.

We built something without ever needing to define it.

A rhythm. A presence. A way of being that slowly became part of who I am.

You’re older now, but that’s not what I notice most.

What I notice is that you’re still here. Still yourself. Still with me.

And that’s what matters.

Happy 13.