Talia Sianne Rivas.

Apparently I could think of no better introduction for you than to quote a mediocre Will Smith movie, wherein he punched an alien in the face and then mispronounced the name of his own planet. You’re worthy of more, but this is the man that will father you, the one that you’re stuck with — a grossly under-prepared geek that makes jokes when confronted with things too big to grasp.

And you, though you are small yet, are a gift grander than I deserve. You are awe-inspiring. Tremendous. You are those things and every other word I could sift through in a Thesaurus like a man rummaging through a forgotten chest, hoping in vain that some small bauble might actually describe the enormity of your appearance and what it means to the kid who always defined himself by not having a father.

You are my heart, little girl.

Your name means “God’s dew,” but I won’t pretend that I wasn’t thinking of Batman a little bit when we picked it. Just like Talia al’ Ghul stole the Great Detective’s heart, you will rend future suitors helpless when they look upon you, when they witness your grace, your beauty and every other thing I just know you’ve received from your mother — whom I am now convinced has been a superhero herself all along.

You will be a warrior. A heroine. A priestess. A whatever-you-want-ess. I pray that you will know one hundred joys for every tear, that you will laugh in the face of fools, that you will discover that this world’s story extends beyond our backyard — and that you will long to know its Author.

Every parent thinks their kid will change the world. All I know is that you’ve changed mine.

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