This year Daphne has been insistent that she is going to space one day, and that she will be one of the first people to Mars. She is inquisitive about what it will take to get there, and from those details, she has created a plan. And if space doesn’t work she wants to be a Air Force pilot; and if that doesn’t work she will be an actress. It is precise and big, and entirely her.
Today is Daphne’s birthday. She is eight, and thinking about all the things. Another year older, a little taller, and somehow even more full of wonder than the year before.
She’s always been a big dreamer — the kind who sees possibilities in places most of us overlook. But here’s something else I deeply admire about her: she gets scared. She worries about trying new things. Whether it’s speaking up in class, learning to climb a rope, or joining a new activity like trying out for a musical— the fear is real. I see it in her eyes.
But then… she tries anyway.
And that’s what makes her brave. Not the absence of fear, but her choice to move forward in spite of it. Her dreams aren’t just floating ideas — they’re fuel. They carry her over the bumps, push her past the nerves, and inspire her to step into the unknown with wide eyes and a steady heart. Watching her dream and be determined to chase them is one of my favorite things.
As adults, we often fall into the trap of practicality. We trade wonder for what’s “realistic,” and over time, the dreams we once had quietly shrink. We have been talking a lot about dreams in our house, and I have to thank Daph for some of the reflection I have been doing lately. Watching her, especially today, reminds me how vital dreaming is — not just for children, but for all of us.
Dreaming gives us vision. It gives us hope. It sparks creativity, innovation, and joy. Daphne doesn’t yet know what’s impossible — and honestly, I hope she never fully believes anything is. Even when she is scared or doubts her ability, she still goes out on a limb and tries. She is shooting for the stars in so much of what she does. While her astronaut dreams may be cute memory in a decade, I hope she never loses this sense of dreaming and trying.
So this is a little birthday love letter to her — and to every child (and adult) who still dares to dream big. Let’s not quiet that voice. Let’s fan the flame. Let’s encourage curiosity, imagination, and the wild kind of belief that makes going to Mars feel absolutely possible.
Here’s to the dreamers — may we raise them, may we nurture them, and may we remember that we are them too.
Happy birthday to my BIG dreamer! Daphne, you are a wonder.
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