Dear Papa,

Some gifts come wrapped in paper. This one comes wrapped in a web address — a small corner of the internet that belongs only to you, built for you because I think the world should know your name.

Every year, this page will count the days, hours, minutes, and seconds until the 8th of August comes around again — because in this family, that is not just a date. It is the day everything good in our lives quietly began.

Thank you for every sacrifice you never mentioned, every lesson you taught without a lecture, and every time you put us first without a second thought. I don't say it enough: I see all of it, and I am grateful for all of it.

Happy birthday, Papa. This is your page, your day, and — as far as I am concerned — your internet.

With all my love