Getting ready for bed tonight was the same mundane routine as any other night.

I trudged drowsily to the bathroom and flossed my teeth, after which I brushed them, unceremoniously washed my face, and took one final look in the mirror (for good measure). Mirrors have a very special place in faery tales- enchanted mirrors through which to receive advice, or tumble into another world… this mirror, on the other hand, isn’t in any way magical. It’s spattered with water spots, and the occasional smudge, but as we all know, the first rule of a faery tale is that looks can be deceiving. And in this mirror, I saw a face. A face framed by unruly auburn curls, with a dusting of freckles across it’s nose to compensate for the lack of blemishes (as those were present with abandon elsewhere). A face scrubbed a raw pink, fading into dark purple that encircled too-bright green eyes. I saw this face, and it saw me- and we spent a moment staring at one another before I came to the realization that this face, in fact, was my own.

And I wondered: what did Belle see, when she looked into the enchanted mirror bequeathed unto her by the Beast of a man, who she had yet to learn to love? What was it that so drew Alice to her looking-glass, so enamored by what she saw there that she simply tumbled in? If memory serves me rightly (and in such cases such as these, it often does) they were greeted with the reflection of themselves- no more, no less. And it just seems silly to think that a Beauty might have worried about a spot on her nose, Miss Liddel a misbehaving lock of blonde hair. We know these women by different names and faces, we’ve heard their stories a thousand times over, yet we hunger, and always come back for more. These are the women that have seen us through our childhoods, watched us blossom into young ladies, and wait for us to introduce them to our own daughters, some day. Or heroines. Our inspirations. Our true role models.

If Wendy can see a kiss in a thimble, Jasmine a prince in a street rat- if Cinderella can trust her future to a slipper of glass, Snow White to love’s true kiss- if Ariel can risk her voice for her dreams, Mulan her life for her family, and Pocahontas her family for her love… I can look into that mirror, and make some magic of my own.

And so can you.

Megan, you- most of all- have been the greatest inspiration in my life to strive for beauty, bravery, and love. All the virtues thought to be so rare that they could only exist in faery tale heroines, are alive and well in your heart- and for that, and so many other things, I thank you.

Thank you for being born 21 years ago, to this day, and sharing with us the greatest gift of all… the heart of a true Princess.