Before I share a poem on your birthday, I wanted to say this.

Before you were two, you spoke with your eyes- until you got your poor arm in a yellow cast and spoke with that instead.  You were my real life baby doll.

Before you were six, I packed you in a duffle bag, threw you over my back and stomped around with your head bobbing right beside mine. You were my stowaway and I was a hitchhiker.

Before you were eighteen, we struggled until we caught a break and somehow thank Grace, we caught each other in friendship. 

Before you were married, I glanced at you in your white dress, standing quiet behind the large wooden doors and rolling petal aisle prepared just for you. I can close my eyes and see you there, talking with your eyes again.

I have kept that small moment from your special day all quiet and peaceful inside. 

Quiet
You are quiet like a shell
I bring close to my ear and
hear waves crashing in a roar

I listen from the inside out to you
sound, sound, rush
words, words, hush

The swell and charge of them
the shallow pools and quiet recess

Pay attention to the quiet shell, world
she is full of loud insights

Pay attention to the quiet shell, sisters

She is dipped in colors most can't understand
but those who pay attention, the sage of the world
listen from the inside out to her