To the little soul who just entered the world 25 years ago,
You arrived at 8 p.m. in Oslob. The ocean whispered beyond the walls, salt and night curling around you. The sky had already folded into deep indigo, and somewhere, a distant rooster crowed, unaware that a new story had begun. In California, it was 5 a.m., and the world was still, holding its breath for you.
You were a surprise — Mama’s miracle at 42. Small but certain, a heartbeat that refused to dim. Even then, the fight, the resilience, the quiet spark of courage lived in you, stitched into your spirit long before you understood love or pain.
I see you years later, plotting to dip your toes into the ocean on a walk that was never just a walk. Mischief in your smile, coaxing Kuya Dave into laughter and trouble, the world bending ever so slightly to your will. I remember the taste of mangoes, sticky and sweet on your fingers; the feel of sunlight pooling on the floor as you napped; the soft drum of rain on the roof. These small, fleeting moments — they built you, piece by piece.
Now, twenty-five years later, you have a little boy who calls you “Mommy,” his tiny voice full of light, saying the funniest, most unexpected things. This morning, when he asked what you wanted for your birthday, you said, “peace and quiet.” He paused, eyes wide, then said, “hmmm, how about a piece of hug?” And in that moment, the world softened, wrapped around you in the warmth of his arms and laughter.
Life may not have followed the plans you imagined, but every version of you — the tiny heartbeat in Oslob, the barefoot girl chasing butterflies, the woman writing this now — has mattered. You’ve fallen, risen, danced through storms, and held joy in the smallest of moments. You’ve learned that peace is sometimes laughter echoing down the hallway, little arms around you, the hum of a fan on a hot night, the quiet rhythm of your own heartbeat choosing softness again and again.
So here’s to you, little one, and all the selves in between. You made it through every tide, every wave, every unfolding day. And that, tiny soul, is enough. You are never too much.
We are right where we are meant to be.
Happy 25th birthday.
With love,
The you who finally understands.
P.S. that was you that Papa is holding. 