You have no idea how excited I am to see you in 10 days. I have been looking forward to this for years.
My family and friends call you one of my "fake friends." They tease me for having made friends through this blog and maintaining those relationships only through the internet, but you and I know better. This relationship is anything but fake.
To be fair, they're also quite certain you are luring us all to your house so you can murder us. And if that's your plan, well then bravo, because I'm totally falling for it.
Getting to know you over the past year or so has been such a privilege. I love living in this age of technology, when I can speak to you face to face (while drinking wine! Which is even better!) even though we are 836 miles apart. You are sassy and funny and adorable and I rarely laugh harder than I do when we all get together and Skype with Ellyn and Amie (and our imaginary friend Rachel, eventually, I'm sure of it).
But more than that, you're the girl I want to be when I grow up. You have the most ridiculously positive attitude about everything that life has thrown your way, and your constant decision to choose joy is incredible. Every time I feel sorry for myself, I remind myself that I can leave my house. Every time I'm sick, I remind myself that you're probably in 3,000 times more pain right now and not complaining about it one bit. You have become my mascot for joy whether you like it or not, and just knowing you has changed me.
I will forever love you for the way you say "honey" in that northern accent or yours, your sense of humor, and for our common love for LOST, peanut butter chocolate chip granola bars, small evil dogs, and Jesus. You are my very real fake friend and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Happy birthday, Sara.