Hey there, birthday boy.
Today, you turn four. I can’t help but feel like this is a milestone birthday for you, so I wanted to write you a little note. Plus, it’s been a minute since I’ve done something like this.
Somehow, you are four years old. I’m really not sure how that happened. It feels like just yesterday we were trying to figure out how on earth to put a diaper on you and to get you strapped into your car seat to bring you home. Now, here you are—growing, learning, and proving every day just how incredible you are.
So, where are you at this ripe old age of four? Well, believe it or not, you go to preschool! Sure, it’s just four days a week for a few hours in the morning, but you’re there. You have friends. You participate in class. You play in the gym. It’s wild to think you’re already at this stage, but nothing fills me with more joy and pride than seeing you thrive. The emotions I feel every time your teachers share something with us—whether it’s a story about your day, a picture of you trying something new, or you simply interacting with a friend—are impossible to put into words. You are amazing, Harrison.
You’ve been to more doctor’s appointments and therapy sessions than most people can even imagine. You put in the work, not just there, but at home—doing things most people don’t see or fully understand. The things you do son, the things you do that people don’t even realize, or that they simply take for granted, could fill a book. Your determination, your drive, and even your frustration when things don’t go as planned all tell the same story: you refuse to be limited. You push forward, you adapt, and you keep going.
You’re also incredibly self-aware. You know how to protect yourself. You test people. You keep them at arm’s length until you know they’re trustworthy, until you feel safe enough to let your guard down. I wish I could say you didn’t need that defense, but I’d be lying. It’s a tough world, but you’ve already figured out how to navigate it in your own way. These traits of yours, and so many more, and what give me confidence that you’re going to strive and exceed wherever you go in life.
Right now, you may not be able to say words. You may not be able to grab things with your hands. You may not be able to walk long distances. But those things don’t define you. What defines you is your spirit—the unshakable drive that refuses to accept limits. No matter how tall the hurdles you’ll face are, you’ll find a way. You may not always be able to go over them. You may have to go under, or around, but you will find a way to get past them, and to put them behind you, because that’s who you are. You have a tenacity within you that is immeasurable, and I hope that never changes.
As you grow, you’ll experience more of the world—both the good and the bad. You’ll see kindness and cruelty, fairness and injustice. My hope is that you never let the weight of the world change you. That you continue to stand your ground, to plant your heels in the sand just as you have since the day you were born.
Some people would call you a fighter. And sure, you are determined and that could be seen as being a fighter. But with you, it’s different. When you set your mind to something, there isn’t a win or lose option. There’s only one acceptable outcome. You’re not a fighter. You’re simply a doer. A conqueror. You take what life has handed you and make it your own. You find ways to show the world who you are, on your terms, without letting anything define you. Some kids are left-handed. Some kids are colorblind. You have AMC. It’s just part of who you are—not the whole of you.
I hope that strength in you only grows. That as you continue to carve your own path, you prove every doubt wrong and humble anyone who ever underestimated you. My wish for you on your birthday is that you never lose your footing. That you keep being the force of nature you have always been.
I am, and will forever be, proud of you—just as I am of your brother and sister. I’m your dad, that sorta comes with the territory; to be proud of your kids, and I am proud of you. I’m proud of you beyond words, and there are times where I wish you actually understood the weight behind those words. But it goes beyond that. I am honored to be your dad. To have a front-row seat to your life, to these moments, to every milestone and victory. The pride I have in you is unmatched and immeasurable.
Because for every short straw life has handed you, you’ve taken it, shoved it right back at the universe, and said, “Give me more.”
It’s been one hell of a four years, kid. One hell of a ride so far, and I’m right here by your side, daring the universe to bring it on and to show everyone just who Harrison Greene really is.
You’re my hero.
Happy birthday, son. I love you.
-Dad
