If you could see this strong, dreamy girl peering through the windows of my studio door with her head cocked to one side, you would never guess that I woke up this morning thinking about the birth that didn't go according to any of our careful plans.  The body that, five years ago, forgot to consult my lesser hopes.  The technology and skilled professionals that saved us in the end, when nothing else could.  I don't think of these things on really any other day, and when I do, it reminds me that many sad stories get happy endings.  If you're in the midst of events unraveling out of your control today, perhaps you'll remember Amelia, this strong, dreamy girl, and be able to trust for just a little longer in the joy that might--just might--await you on the other side. These things are far from our minds every other day, as Amelia lays her heart out on the line for this magical day--her Birthday--and we are reminded by her enthusiasm of the importance of celebrating each other.  My girl walks in this world with eyes that don't miss an invisible thing, with steps that tread gently around every soul as though she's moving through arctic tundra.  Even today, she doesn't say, "That day better be all about me, dammit!" as many of us dictate in our lesser hopes.  She just writes out the invitation list every day for weeks, for months.  The friends at school she forgot to add?  She's putting them on the list for 2009.  I don't ask too much any more about what she wants for the party, because the pageantry and splendor she dreams up are so far beyond what I can actually reach.  "No, we're probably not going to form a parade with all the children and walk across the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan.  In December."  This year the details of her party will mostly be a surprise to her, but I know she will be drowning in delight. It's an interesting inquiry, How to celebrate another person?  I mean, not just to throw money or things or fantastic hired professionals at the question, but to really look at how do we make someone feel seen?  Cherished?  How to tell a strong, dreamy girl in a 5-year-old language that she is your absolute gold, that anything you ever do well by her will be your legacy to this world--this dear world, that is teeming with sad stories waiting for their happy endings to come along? I'd better get dressed, and try to keep my heart-full of devotion from spilling out my eyes into sloppy tears all day long.  Or at least until she gets to school.  Those sloppy tears don't always translate well in 5-year-old language.  Thank God delight and magic are universal--may these be ours and yours today.