Linen James,
The week you were born, I promised you a love letter every year on your birthday. A post within this space is rare these days, but it’s the perfect place for them to live. I love you endlessly, my Linen girl.
I’m laying here beside you, watching as the clock just passed midnight, and you’re sleeping soundly, nestled in-between your baby brothers — your last night as a five year old. Your little spirit has been so anxious to turn six, and simultaneously, I’ve been begging time to slow down every chance I can. You’re growing and changing right in front of me and it’s the scariest, most beautiful thing in the world to watch. I love the way you feel things hard and you love even harder. I love how your big blue eyes light up when we pass a taxi on the street, or talk about getting ice cream with sprinkles, or when you catch my glance from across the room. I love how you have this innate ability to wholeheartedly choose the people you gravitate towards and make them feel every ounce of your love — never second guess that gut feeling for a second. You find more joy in the every day than you ever do in the big moments that are expected and I could not love that more about you. Five was such a big year — a constant balance of holding on and letting go. You started big girl school and soared. SOARED. Even when mama was hesitant, you never were. Each afternoon, as I’d wait by that gate to scoop you up, it felt like all of these different, perfect, little versions of you would run out day after day, yet every single one of them still jumped in my arms. The change feels imminent, but your big heart always shines the brightest — it never wavers. You finally conquered the monkey bars, as we cheered you on at every reach. As we always will. The bangs you cut for yourself grew back out and luckily for mama, it wasn’t the end of the world. You lost your first (and second) tooth, learned to tie your shoes, and braid your hair, almost all in the same week. You gained so much confidence, yet always turned back around to make sure I was still there. We said yes to inviting play dates over and I can see you starting to understand that friendship is one of the most beautiful parts of life. You still believe in unicorns and ask me how long it takes to get to Paris every day, all while counting life in wake ups. Slowly, but surely, the little phases you say incorrectly are working themselves out, even though we’ve never told you differently. Now, daddy and I say them all like you used to, just so we can hold onto them. You have a way of making the heavy feel lighter and the chaos feel calmer — nothing heals or lifts my spirits the way you do. And nothing ever will. You are all the best parts of me, Linen James, and I am so proud to be your mama. Happy 6th Birthday, my love — I love you bigger than the whole city.
Mama
7.21.2026