Happy birthday to you, tow-headed manifestation of completeness. Jubilant applause, palms upon ground, petals floating with tender accolade, and silent, humble honor are yours.
I think upon this year, almost past, since your appearance in the world and I smile to know the things you bring with you and gift without intent or knowledge… yet. The things your presence alone brings and sings in empty places; sheets that hold your smell and deliver it like benediction to those who guard and guide you. The things you hold with innocence and intrinsic being; evidence of commitment, vow of shared dedication and delights.
I smile because those who safe-keep you are deserving, because it is always a joy to see joy within the eyes and lives of those for which we care. I smile as well because the voice of experience within my head whispers and chitters enthused contentment to know your presence instills the exponentially increasing savor that those for whom I care had no hope of knowing before your arrival.
I see you, on occasion, from afar, and am reminded of many things, most of which have no place whatever in this explication. All the same, I honor and thank you for this as well.
A happy birthday to you, fair one, dear one, precious and new one. Welcome to the world and thank you for being here and for all that being here means and brings to those for whom I care, for me, and for the world that will know you as you grow into it.
Blessings to you and to your family as well. Make your mother happy and your father proud, and all you may ever need or want will come to you naturally. This, the secret of how parents guide us even as they may not know it, is my gift to you.
May the this day and all that arrive thereafter deliver to you more than you hope, less than you fear, and all that you need.
Happy Birthday, Connor.