My Darling Girl,

I’ve been thinking so much about the magic of the Peter Pan play you were in a couple weeks ago. You were absolutely adorable—first as a pirate, then as a mermaid—sparkling with imagination and joy. Even though you were in a supporting role, you lit up the stage. I watched you mouthing every single line of Captain Hook’s scene, and I just sat there in awe of your focus, your memory, your heart. You were all in, and I loved every second of it.

On the first night, it was just Papa and me in the audience. When you spotted us and gave us a wave from the stage, my heart melted. After the show, you ran up to us beaming and asked if we could take you to dinner at your favorite restaurant. We got permission, and your mom brought you to meet us there. Even though the restaurant ended up closing early, we found somewhere else. You sat squeezed in tight between Papa and me on our side of the booth—wrapped in love, snuggles, and laughter. You were glowing, still full of stage magic and excitement. That night is tucked away safely in my heart—shining and untouchable. One of those moments I’ll never forget.

The next afternoon, almost the whole family came to see your matinee performance. You were just as excited to see us again. During curtain call, you called out for your cousin from the stage—your voice full of love and pride. It was simply adorable.

After that show, you asked me something I’ll never forget: if you could come live with me. My heart broke into a million tiny pieces, and I wrapped you up in all the love I could find. I told you the truth: there will always be room for you in my house. There will always be a seat for you at my table. And just like Wendy’s mother in Peter Pan—I will always leave the window open for you to return.

No matter what.

No matter when.

My window stays open. Always.

With all my love,

Nana