And then she was four.

I don't believe her existence is an accident. 

Nor do I believe she was ever meant to walk this earth; not from science's perspective, anyhow. She defies any string of logic that I can ever manage to put together. But beyond all else, this I know: she was sent here from The Divine. Her holy existence was always meant to be. 

She is everything. She is bright light tunneling through the darkness. She is ineffable chaos as the sun sets softly. She is noise, she is resistance embodied and she is the wilderness. She is life in a galaxy where there should be none. She is magic. 

She is a weight of love so heavy it crushes me—I welcome her, I burrow myself deep within her, and I let every ounce of her seep deep within my bones. 

She is a holy gift and I am wholly changed. 

Happy birthday, my girl. I adore you.