One year ago today, I was in an emergency room with my vomiting daughter fighting with an ER doc about the most appropriate course of action. It was a bad day.
Several hours north of us, a little Golden retriever was giving birth to a litter of puppies: 8 robust golden beauties and one, slightly darker, rusty puffball. One year later, he is a 65 pound whirlwind of trouble, fur, love, and goofiness resting under my feet. He is a reminder of what is important, what is real, and what can be reached on a countertop.
At the time, May 26th 2009 seemed like a bad day. But my daughter was OK, unlike many other parents who have ill children who do not get to come home the same day they go in. And Brody was born. It was a good day. A very good day.
Happy Birthday, Brody. I love you, dude.