I keep lists of things I want to write about. Like you are suprised by this…Because, well, when you have three quirky kids and a part-time husband and a dog whose tampon-eating habits are the least of his issues and you are living with your parents in a new country where things like co-pays make your head spin and you work from home without pants on, there really never is a dry spell. There are always stories to tell and things to write about and those oh-my-good-god-I-have-got-to-tell-the-internets moments.
But as I sat down to write this morning, I realized that today is not a day for me. Or for my stories or my senseless drivel. It’s November 11th. It’s the day that Madeline Spohr would have celebrated her second birthday.
It’s HER day.
And of all the people who loved her and will always love her butÂ didn’t get to have enough time with her. People who don’t get to shower her with gifts and cream puffs on her birthdays. And don’t get to watch her play at the beach or hold her hand on the first day of school or dance with her at her wedding.
And the people, like me, who never got the chance to actually know her and hug her and play with her, but knew her through the stories and her smiles and her silly faces and the friendships I am so thankful to have with her amazing parents.
And while not a day goes by where I don’t think of Maddie Moo, today, November 11th, will always be HER day. A day to eat cream puffs and get my toenails painted purple and wear my March for Maddie shirt and donate to Friends of Maddie.
Happy Birthday, Maddie.