Tali, I can't quite believe that in about half an hour, it will be the tenth anniversary of your first breath of the world you are now inhabiting.
Where have those years gone?
Where is the little girl I carried?
You are the one visual proof that exists of my ability to father children. If I were to vanish tomorrow, everyone would still know that you are my daughter, because you carry my face on yours.
Ten years Tali. Ten years and what an interesting time it's been. How have you managed to come into the world as though you'd never been anywhere else and stamped your indelible presence on it? How did you do it? How come the world hasn't quite caught up with you? What is it that ticks inside of you?
How many other children would get up there in front of everybody and play the piano at a school talent show - without knowing how to play that very instrument?
How many ten year olds would choose a lava lamp and radio as their birthday present?
How many ten year olds would look at the world through the same lens as you and come out with the kind of classic gems that you seem to utter as though they were part of the vernacular?
You are so refreshingly unique that I sometimes wonder what percentage of you I fully understand.
Tali, you've reached the grand old age of 10. Please continue being you without compromising your amazing character at the expense of trying to fit in with everyone else. You're a very very special little girl and your daddy sometimes stands in awe at having had any part in your make up. The face might be mine (so to speak), but you, my dearest, dearest Talia, are very much a person unto yourself.
Happy tenth birthday, Tal.
From your daddy who loves you so so much (and understands you so so little!)