Welcome to 40, Mari—
        the year you stop
        pretending you don’t glow.

From St. Louis edges
     to Georgia Tech grit,
     you learned how to win rooms

     without raising your voice.

Became Mom to Coal,
       caretaker to everybody,
       still somehow making time to be *you*.

Atlanta insider—
        not by address,
        by orbit…

You don’t just live here,
    you move the city a little
    as you glide through it.

I’m grateful for your laugh,
    your late-night light,
    and the way you make “ordinary”

    feel like a secret worth keeping.

Happy Birthday.

(still hungry. on standby.)