Sofía:

Today you are six years old and you just fell asleep on top of me watching cartoons. You are heavy, my arm hurts, and I would not trade it for anything. I am writing this for the day you turn eighteen, because by the time you read it you will no longer fit in my arms, and I want you to know how you were today, and how much I loved you before you could even remember.

Today we danced in our socks in the living room. You gave me some of your cupcake even though you did not want to. You asked me for "one more" about fifteen times and I said yes all fifteen.

I only want to ask you three things. Be brave even when your voice shakes. Always go back to the people who treat you well. And never, ever think you are a bother when you come to me, not at eighteen, not at forty.

I am so proud of you it makes my chest ache, and I do not even know yet who you became. It does not matter. You are mine and that is already enough.

Happy birthday, my girl. Go and take on the world. I am cheering for you from wherever I am.

I love you, Dad.