Our dear, little girl– now, you are five.

These years have passed so quickly. It seems that one moment ago, I brought you into this world with a final push and held my breath until they placed you back on my chest.

I can see now how that first minute, those first days prepared us for the journey ahead. You were slow and soft and glowing– a warm, gentle glow like the coals of a fire. You are always waiting for the right moment, for the perfect piece of kindling to come to your embers before you spark and catch, ready to grow.

As quickly as this handful of years has gone by, that pace is really only felt when looking back. In the present– like this birthday or any of the small, precious moments each day– time is not speeding by.

I feel it pass at the slow, steady pace of one of the many sunsets we’ve seen on a cthousand walks together. The clouds come and go, changing the landscape of each new glance. The sun leads the way through an incredible journey of hues. Blue sky fades to a delicate purple then deepens to night. The golden yellow glow meets radiant orange before it changes to a pretty, perfect pink. On the luckiest days, there are dances of deep violet and magenta.

Our life is the sunset and you are the sun. You remind us that there is nothing more important than being in this moment– that is the true glory of how you live. You glow and move as your body tells you. You follow the direction of your intuition; there is simply no other way to be.

Our little girl– now, you are five. When your sister had her fifth birthday, I felt the weight of time progressing. We knew that she was leaving behind the round cheeks and small voice of toddlerhood. She was moving into those transformative years of childhood that would show us more of the place she might take in the world.

On your birthday this year, I felt myself grieve as much as I celebrated. Your life is different. It seems simple to say but there is nothing simple about the experience. We continue the steady journey through time but the milestones that mark your climb are set only by you. There is no need to compare the pace or trajectory to how life is lived by most; you have no concern for such things.

Watching you turn five feels beautiful and hard, wondrous and heavy.

I grieve for the words we don’t hear, the games we haven’t played. My heart aches when I think of the questions you haven’t been able to ask and the incredible perspective, the sparks of imagination that I see in your eyes, but don’t get to experience with you. We long for a few simple words, for the ease of communication.

Even though the light of the sun fades as it sets, we are gifted with the glorious glow being reflected by the moon. We see thousands of sparkles pop as each star becomes visible in the night sky.

We get to hear your laugh that changes the world, that emanates from a place of the purest joy. We see the piercing eyes that are portals into the depths of your experience. We feel the gentle, regular kisses and touches that communicate more love from you than a thousand words could.  We spend endless hours spinning, flipping, moving together.

We get to experience the genuine trust and bond that you build with others. It is not fleeting. It is sturdy and earned. We get to come into your light when you feel safe and loved. You show us deep, unmatched connection. Your parents, sister, family, friends, therapists—we know we are lucky to step into your world.

Our girl, our five-year-old girl.

I will not say that you are behind where the world expects you to be on this birthday.

It is the world that needs to change, not you.

We– the ones who love you, who see you– are not waiting for you to do anything. You are showing us the way, the truth.

Our dear, little girl– you are exactly what the world needs. You are the light shining for us all.

Your life is different. It is beautiful and hard, wondrous and heavy.

You are the sun and the moon, the wisdom and the joy– all in one radiant little being.

Our girl. Our Annabelle.