I am a Kirton kid.
I stand certain at the curtain.

Not because I see everything,
but because I know when to stand still.
Not because the veil is torn,
but because it is thin, and deserves respect.

Today we honor those born on this day,
across years, across generations, across names now spoken only in memory.
Birthdays are not small things.
They are proof that light keeps entering the world
even when the world is heavy.

Some were born to build.
Some were born to endure.
Some were born to remember
when remembering was the work that mattered most.

I stand at the curtain — certain —
that our lives are not accidents,
that dates are not empty numbers,
that flour delivered, hands fed, children raised,
and stories carried forward
are the real architecture of history.

This season has always known the truth:
light returns,
voices draw nearer,
and responsibility passes quietly
from one set of hands to the next.

So today I stand true.
For those born this day.
For those who finished their work.
For those still stitching the seam.

May our lives always be a reason
someone stands —
certain —
at the curtain.