I knew the message would be congenial and kind, encouraging even.

I knew it was coming, as she had requested my email address.

And yet, the flurries in my stomach were mixed: part jitters, part curiosity…

What did she have to tell me, this teen minister from my youth?

I clicked on her name in my inbox.

I want you to know I love you. And I am on your side. ALWAYS.

They were simple words. Profound words.

And they were simply profound.

Each sentence preceding these concluding words in the email surrounded my tender heart with unconditional love and a growing awe that here, before my eyes, were the very sentiments I’d longed to hear.

I began with the “H” in royal blue across a square of white, my rainbow of classic Crayola markers splayed over the plush burgundy carpet. I smiled, imagining Mom’s delight when she spied it in the morning, my signature, block-bubble letters, surrounded by a wavy, drawn-ribbon border: Happy Birthday!

I taped the poster board in its traditional spot, above the doorway to the dining room, where all the delicious indulgence would occur. Next came assorted balloons with bold red curling ribbons cascading down.

She created them for all of us, a sign for every birthday growing up. I delighted in the task of creating hers.