Some women don’t just leave — they rise.
They don’t just relocate — they recalibrate.
They move like water: fluid, intentional, unstoppable.
You remind me of that.
Of a mermaid who knows her depth.
Of a woman who swims with sharks and still keeps her shimmer.
Of someone who doesn’t fear the deep — she belongs to it.
When you move, it’s not escape. It’s expansion.
You don’t wander — you wonder.
And the world answers back with coral-colored blessings and whale-sized favor.
You’re not leaving. You’re multiplying.
Multiplying your reach.
Multiplying your revelation.
Multiplying the kind of beauty that can’t be boxed in or held back.
Some women walk in purpose.
You? You swim in it.
You dive into it.
You let it carry you like current — light, lifted, led.
So go.
Go like the sea turtle who knows her way home.
Go like the orca who sings her own name.
Go like the woman who’s already been claimed by destiny.
And may your journey be light —
Because heavy things don’t belong to women who move like prophecy.
May you never lose your way —
Because women like you don’t wander. You wonder. And the world answers.
Well wishes until I see you again.
Wishing you “well” — like ocean deep, like mermaid strong, like woman who could never fail.
Until I “see” you again — like vision restored, like destiny confirmed, like reunion already written.
Ase’
