Dear little sun, star sailor

From the very first moment I saw you, I couldn’t believe such love could exist

My entire universe changed that day. It was as if my heart and soul stretched, making room for something beyond words, for this tiny, perfect being who suddenly became the center of my world.

I was so young back then — barely 18 and stumbling through life, unsure of so much. But the moment I held you in my arms, it didn’t matter. Everything fell into place. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I loved you more than I had ever loved anything. I remember those first weeks so vividly. Despite the exhaustion, despite the sleepless nights and days that seemed to blur together, there was a joy so bright that it carried us through. We were tired, yes, but I would have stayed awake forever just to watch you sleep, just to marvel at the miracle that was you.

We shared so many places together, little one. Places that are forever etched into my heart, their memory tied to you and who I became because of you. Do you remember Polperro? I know you were small, but I like to think that some part of you still holds onto the feel of that little fishing village — the cobbled streets and brightly painted houses, the smell of salt and seaweed. You laughed as I carried you through those narrow lanes, pointing out every little boat bobbing gently in the harbor. We’d watch the seagulls dive and squawk, and I’d tell you stories about where they came from and where they were going. I still see your eyes lighting up at every new sight, every ripple in the water, as if each one was a secret meant just for you.

And do you remember the beaches in Cornwall? We spent countless afternoons gathering seashells — you would hand me each one so carefully, turning it over in your tiny fingers and marveling at the colors, the swirls, the way the light played on the rough edges. And then we’d build sandcastles, towers that would stand tall until the tide came in, and we’d laugh as the waves knocked them down, only to start again the next day. You always wanted to make each one bigger, stronger — you were determined, even then. Those moments on the sand are a part of me, like shells I carry in my pocket, their memory worn smooth but never forgotten.

We wandered so many paths together. Do you remember the walks we took through the Forest of Dean? It was like stepping into a world of magic — the towering trees, the light that filtered down in gentle beams, the way the forest seemed to hold its breath around us. You’d run ahead, always with that spark of adventure in your eyes, and I’d follow, calling out to slow down, knowing I’d never want you to. And when we’d find a clearing, you’d spin and spin, your laughter ringing out like the sweetest music. You made that forest come alive for me in a way I had never seen before. You made everything more vivid, more real.

And you… you were so endlessly curious. Every rock, every flower, every tiny creature that crossed our path was a marvel to you. You’d ask question after question, your eyes wide with wonder, and I’d do my best to answer, even when I didn’t know the words. But the truth is, I think you taught me more than I could ever teach you. You opened my eyes to beauty I had overlooked — made me see the world anew, through your gaze, through your boundless awe.

And then, there was that night, when you called yourself my Star Sailor. Do you remember? You were barely two , your little hands tracing shapes in the sky, asking if there were sailors up there too. You wanted to know if there were boats that sailed among the stars and if the moon was like a lighthouse, guiding them home. That’s when the story of Hoppy and Bloom on the Moon came to life — because of your endless questions about sailboats and skies, and whether the stars had sailors like the seas below. You became my Star Sailor that night, drifting through the sky in every story, every dream we wove together.

You are still my Star Sailor, my bright light in the night sky, even now.

We had so many places still to explore, so many more paths I wanted to wander with you. There were still castles to visit, more stories to create. But I believe, deep down, that you are still out there, among those stars you loved so much. You’re not alone. I like to think that your mother, your grandmother, your grandfather, and your great-grandmother are there with you, holding you close, just as I wish I could. I picture you laughing, playing, exploring — lighting up the sky with all the joy and curiosity you shared with me.

Dad loves his Star Sailor. Always.

Until we meet again, my little sun. Keep shining bright.