The other night when Dad hugged me, he tapped my shoulder (the right one, with only a partial deltoid) and he told the room, “In July, it will have been five years. And her doctor will call her cured.” I’m grateful for that. This week Jake has been sick and couldn’t go to school. Fortunately, I didn’t miss a moment of work, because I can do it all from home.
I’m thankful for this street and these feet which aren’t nearly this small anymore . . . but they still fit in the cutest little black cowboy boots you’ve ever seen. I’m thankful for those too. And for the thousand-and-one pairs of tennis shoes that spread throughout this house each day. I’ll be so sad when I get ready for bed one evening years and years from now and there