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My parents never remembered my birthday. It was a half-hearted “Happy birthday” when I reminded them. When I was ten, I asked for a chocolate cake for my birthday, and I remember my father beating me because he thought I was asking for too much. After that, my birthdays had no significance, even for me.

This year, for the first time, I wanted to celebrate. Because someone made me feel truly significant, like I actually mattered to her. I wanted to celebrate it only with her.

She took me to Helsinki, to a cute cabin in the middle of nowhere. She woke me up with kisses. She made a chocolate cake for me. She showered me with gifts, with love. We went on a walk. I felt like it was just me and her in this world. It didn’t feel like anything was missing, because she’s all I need. We walked through a forest until we reached a frozen lake. The nature was breathtaking, but nothing could surpass the beauty of her smile. She took me to a sauna —just for the two of us. Before we even left the cabin, it already felt like home.

For all these years, something was missing, but I didn’t know exactly what. At sixteen, I finally understood. I was searching for a home, a family. And this year, I finally found it. I learned what home is. It’s not four walls and a roof. It’s a feeling. It’s being embraced instead of judged. It’s being able to be yourself completely. It’s being loved. It’s belonging.

I am endlessly grateful for this birthday. But you had already given me something no one else could: you gave me home and a family. Wherever I go, whatever I do, I carry that home with me, because it’s you. For the first time in my life, I celebrated my birthday at home.

You have been my first in so many ways, and I am glad it is you—and no one else. You are my Northern Star, guiding me, helping me find my way, showing me the direction of home.
You are the one.