Kiddo and I had an archery lesson. I managed a few bullseyes. The rest were hers.

Today is my 51st birthday. If I ever have moments of doubt about how well loved I am, all I need to do is remember how, each year on June 10th, the tiny computer in my pocket practically explodes with messages—texts, emails, calls, and DMs from every social app I use. It’s such a treat! But more than that, it’s a true gift, a kind of medicine you all offer me. It gives me a deep, healing sense of gratitude and relief: that I am loved, that I can love. There were times in my life when those truths weren’t as clear as they are today.

My 50th year was split in two by the death of my mother. When I think about those rugged first six months and compare them to the relative ease of the past six, the contrast is so stark it’s hard to comprehend. Those heavy hospice months feel hazy as a dream lost upon waking. Maybe that’s a blessing. What has remained clear, however, is the unwavering support I received from my community. Not once in the past 365 days did I feel alone or abandoned. I knew, in every moment, that comfort, help, and connection were always just a tap away on my phone.

As I begin my 51st year, I’m gonna keep working to earn that love and support. We all deserve it, but it also takes time, care, and attention to cultivate. That’s clear to me. May each of you receive the love and aid you deserve, and, most importantly, may you find the grace to welcome it in.