Dear Anna,

Today is your birthday. It hasn't started to snow yet, that was only in 2009, when you chose to come into the world. We had the whitest winter back then. And the whitest 30 nights. Just 30, in which you took a terrible pleasure in talking, as soon as daddy, your little sister and all the neighbors in the neighborhood fell asleep. 30 nights in which, you, huddled in the pink and fluffy blanket and I, dressed in what I could manage to put on, stood in front of the wide open window, letting the flakes that were falling frantically, freeze our cheeks. I was thinking that the cold and strong air would make you want to sleep a lot and that you would fall asleep before 9 o'clock, so that I could at least get Thea ready for kindergarten. But you, little one, warm and blushing, looked at the flakes from the streetlights with insatiable desire. You didn't even blink when they melted on your eyelashes. You opened your mouth to taste them and gurgled softly. I had to know that you had started dreaming of stars and horses with wings, or just white wings, that you already saw sparkles in everything. And that you were falling in love with winter, starting a special relationship with this cold season, you, the warmest being in the Universe.

You weighed 50 grams more than your little sister. But you seemed tiny. And very present, from the first moments we touched, when you looked up from my breast to see who came through the door. It was your paternal grandmother, who marveled at how brunette you were, how much hair you had and how black your little eyes were! Yes, I know it seems like someone else's description, but that's what you looked like, our little girl with golden locks and a look like a Peruvian.

I was running up the stairs to see you, in your first hours of life, until I had you by my side in the living room, trying to forget the fears of the day I found out that you decided to enter our lives. Yes, I was running, because, you already know my opinion, about the way a child should come into the world, if the mother wants it and there are no medical problems. It seems that I am strong, there were no medical problems, so, on the occasion of your birth (like the first time), I chose…natural. Maybe that is why you are in a permanent search for…miracles. For me, you were the second. But no less important.

Yes, I had millions of thoughts on the day of the two pink lines. Because I loved your little sister so much and she takes up our lives so beautifully, that it seemed like there was no free space left for anyone else. I was devastated for a few hours, then, like a tsunami of love, you imperceptibly flooded our entire existence. I apologized every moment, from that day on, for my first awkward thought and for the fact that I didn't jump up with joy...until the next day. You delicately placed only 11 kilograms on my body, you didn't push me towards excesses, you helped me run, drive, dance, climb mountains and do whatever came to my mind, from there, from my increasingly bigger and more...plump belly. People thought you were a boy, that's what they whispered or shouted at me. I knew you were a little girl, that you were special and that I would love you to the ends of the earth and back (a thousand times over). I knew, ever since we were connected by the umbilical cord, when you stopped to add grams and centimeters and I would go to Cezara to make sure you were okay. And you were. You only rested from growing sometimes, for a few days. I would find out later that you do many things in your own way. I knew a lot about you and it all came true. But, my child, it is starting to be very complicated to protect you from everything that is dark in the world. Lucky for you, the wisdom with which, even at two years old, you amaze us.

I try not to influence you and not to clip your wings. I throw you into the whirlpools (being one step behind you) and I hope you don't get hurt. Or that the people around you or other children, who you've begun to realize can learn bad things from adults, don't do it. Because not all adults are good and, yes, not all parents think like us.

I taught you to beware of blows and, if a word or deed hurts, to let the tears flow; because tears are sometimes good, your little eyes will be even bluer.

Of course, you have so many questions at any given moment, and they all have overwhelming importance. Usually, even the answers you receive give them the shape and color that make you happier. You find goodness everywhere, green, in any dry bush, clarity, in murky waters, a touch of kindness, in frowning and sharp looks, you bring frozen ladybugs back to life, singing to them and touching them with a Christmas petal, you dream with your eyes open of a better world, you wish for suffering to cease, for us to no longer find dead sparrows on the asphalt, crushed beetles, injured puppies and cats, or to learn that some children are sick or that…they turn into Angels.

I have talked to you about many things, my Anna. About life and death, about good and evil, about war and peace. You know from a young age about your great-grandparents who fought on the front, saved lives or wrote books and told the whole world about Romania. The most beautiful stories have real characters, blood from our blood, about whom even I learned at bedtime story time. I keep repeating them to you, so that your children will also find out. Maybe your grandchildren too, if ruthless oblivion does not set in.

I try to wrap the hard things in soft colors, so that life doesn't seem very hard to you. But, my dear, I wish you to be prepared for any trial, even if I only wish you light and peace. I wish you not to live like a fragile petal in the fierce wind, but to have healthy roots and to know how to defend yourself from storms. To withstand them and remain upright. May you not be brought down by deeds, gestures, words and the malice of those who are not like you. Although they could have, they did not receive the same advice and no one put a hand on their shoulder. I am more insistent, my Anna, I will repeat them in one go, until I leave for another world. It is the only legacy, which I know for sure that you will need very much.

I do not wish you to be rich, my Anna! As I keep reminding you, God has given you some significant graces, beyond tenderness: you sing wonderfully, every sound you hear, you transform into music, you have a sense of color, you dance with incredible ease, you swim with grace. I know, my dear, I still hear what you once said to me, in response to my exhortation to shape these talents: “If God gave me these graces, he gave them to me forever, didn’t he? I can use them at any time.” That’s right, my child, you are right again. I am happy to be able to respect your wishes.

I would like, my dear little girl, to stay true to your dreams and turn them into reality, no matter what it means. If your life is as you confessed to me last time, almost asleep, I will be the happiest mother on earth. Because, I don't know if you realized it, my Anna, your little eyes were laughing when you told me how it would be: "I will be half a doctor (because the other half will be my husband), we will heal both people and animals and each one will be the other's helper. We will live between Bucharest and Brașov and I will paint in the evening, at bedtime, everything that comes to my mind. We will have no money, because only people who are not helped by anyone else will come to us. We will only eat... things "that don't hurt", that is, vegetables, fruits and eggs, which we will receive from people who have no money and want to reward us at any cost. And, Mommy, I will also be a liquorice, meaning I will mix magic liquors, which will cure many diseases. Even cancer." You didn't see me smile, dear mom, it was dark. I smiled proudly.

I am very proud, my dear. I am also proud when you admit that you didn't do your homework, because you played more with the horses and when before the FB in the notebook is a minus, I am always proud of you, because none of the mistakes you make, give me the impression that you are on the wrong path. You are just a child. Ours.

I don't want you to be a prize winner, my Anna! I'm not interested in perfect letters or being among the top three in the class. I'm just trying to make you a MAN. A good MAN. A good mother. Because, my dear Anna, that's all a mother can leave her children more valuable. A real MAN can always start over. Everything else can disappear in an instant. And nothing will be left behind.

I love you, Anna, my mother! I love you, my wonderful second daughter, Thea's younger sister, who came into the world with the first snow. I love you, savior of all little creatures, collector of stones, devourer of lollipops, maker of magnificent bouquets out of everything! And I promise to keep my word, no matter how hard it may seem and no matter how late it is when I fall asleep. Even if that means making a cake with lots of whipped cream and...writing (clumsily), "like in a confectionery". In your world, where everything is so modern, at least your mother can afford the luxury of being...old-fashioned.

Happy birthday, smiling little girl who dreams with her wide-open blue eyes of flying alongside winged horses and unicorns in perfect worlds!

Happy birthday, over these seven, the first ones at home, from the house where singing is done, stories are told and it always smells like bread, cookies, and childhood!

With love,
Parent