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46.	

You don’t get to choose which birthdays mean something. This one does. It’s my first without my mom.

It isn’t where I pictured myself at 46. Most of life isn’t. What shapes us is everything we didn’t see coming.

And 46 doesn’t feel the way I thought it would. Turns out the number moves faster than you do. Apparently it also puts me in daddy territory. I’ll take it.

Loss teaches you that time is the only real luxury. Gratitude teaches you what to do with it.

Feeling settled and still feeling hungry, it turns out, were never opposites. Knowing who you are doesn’t mean you stop becoming.

To my friends, old and new. To my family. To the teams I build with every day. To everyone who has followed along since I was 20. Thank you for the company. None of it happens alone.

The best is still being made. No sweat, baby.
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The weather turned in Bucks County today, on my father’s 87th birthday. We went antique hunting with Harrison, picked what the garden gave us, and spent a long afternoon in Dad’s studio among his paintings. Fresh air and turpentine, the smell of home. Mom would have loved the zinnias.
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To my mother, a true tour de force. My mentor, my guide, and one of the greatest gifts in my life. She has taught me the meaning of hard work, resilience, patience, and entrepreneurial dreaming through the way she lives every day. Powerful, strong, endlessly caring, and a true pioneer, she inspires so many and brings warmth and light to everyone lucky enough to know her. She is an incredible mother to my sister and a devoted wife to my father, but to me she is something even more indescribable. The bond between a mother and son is a kind of love that words can never fully capture, and I feel endlessly grateful to walk through this life as her son.

The strength and grace you have shown over the past few years living with cancer has been nothing short of extraordinary. Thank you for your courage, your wisdom, and for the precious extra time we have been given with you.

Happy International Women’s Day. ❤️
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Thanksgiving with the Posens ♥️ Grateful for the familiar chaos, the stories that resurface every year, and the comfort of being exactly where we belong.
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A tremendously joyous and potent/poignant celebration of my force-of-nature mother, Susan Posen, on her 80th birthday!!! So grateful to all who came and brought  love and history to the event- it was exactly as Susan dreamt it to be.. #epic #SusanPosenis80
47
Today I feel deeply lucky to be with my incredible mom, Susan, in her spring garden, surrounded by life blooming and air that feels freshly alive.

There’s a quiet power in motherhood, a force that nurtures and sustains. My mother has always been that force steady, strong, and full of grace.

To all the mothers: we honor you. And to my mom thank you for everything. You deserve the world. I love you more than words can hold.
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We spent the weekend in the garden. Early spring. The kind of weekend that only asks you to be there.

Magnolias beginning to loosen. Daffodils just starting to bloom. Dogs running through the beds, dirt on their paws. Rakes scraping the last of winter into piles. We cleaned, cleared, hauled. Pulled the cold season out by hand.

I cooked dinner one night a real home meal, simple, warm. It felt good to be cooking again. That old rhythm.

Harrison rehearsed in the grass barefoot, moving slowly, deliberately. His choreography folding into the wind, light catching on the arc of his arm. No music but the birds and the wind.

Later, I sat on the porch and massaged my mother’s feet. We did speak not enough toes to tell all the tales of the week, she said, and we laughed. The sun was going down. 
There had been too much movement lately. San Francisco to Japan, Japan to New York, New York to L.A., and finally back to Bucks County. A bit jet-lagged, yes. But restored by family, by the garden, by spring showing up right on time.

We were all there. That was enough.

Now it’s Sunday night. The city again. Another big week in Gap Inc. land.

And still, some part of me is back in the garden.
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