September 11. A sad day in the life of our nation. A day to remember those who were lost.
In our home, September 11th is a day of celebration. The day that my girl was born.
She had a great day today. Went to ToysRUs to pick out a toy. Went to Chuck E. Cheese’s. A great day when you are five.
My girl also had a great year. She grew a lot and had lots of fun. She won a purple ribbon at the fair, went to the Lazy 5 Ranch to see the animals, went to see Cinderella’s house in Orlando, rode on the Polar Express train in the mountains, got a puppy, played in the snow, went to the beach, picked strawberries at a strawberry farm, went to Emerald Pointe, went to Carowinds, went on a Mission Trip (her second) to Pennsylvania, went camping, went to Washington, DC, played lots of games, read lots of books, sang lots of songs. Loved life to the fullest. Like it should be.
She had a couple of surgeries and spent some time in the hospital. But she had a great year.
Most importantly, she was loved. Loved by those in her home and out. And she knows that she is loved.
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