“I started a running streak. I ran at least a mile a day (often more) for 252 days straight without stopping – the same number of days Sami was alive. I wanted a way to consciously think about what that amount of time felt like, to feel it physically.”
“I’d beat myself up for comparing her to other kids and try to convince myself everything was okay. I’d comfort myself with those familiar phrases. She was just ‘going at her own pace,’ ‘every kid is different,’ she will ‘catch up.'”
“Sometimes I wonder why she can’t be more agreeable. Why things can’t be easier. Yet deep down, even on my most exhausting days, I know I wouldn’t change her. The world needs her vivacious spirit.”
“‘Porky! Porky!’ That’s all I could hear. I was 18 years old at the time and weighed 450Ibs at 5’11.”
“We planned on a pumpkin patch visit. Instead, we were facing the possibility of losing our baby before we’d even received his birth certificate.”
“The heroin was laced with fentanyl. I died. I remember waking up, ripping out the IV. The next morning…I bought MORE heroin. ‘WHAT have I gotten myself into?’ I didn’t know what was happening.”
“I almost taught him that pride was more important than helping another human in need. I almost showed him that a good deed wasn’t good enough to make a difference in someone’s life. And then without even realizing it, my boy reminded me what matters most.”
“I walk out to take my break and I hear music coming from the atrium at 3:33 a.m.”
“‘Check the dryer, a gift for the new baby.’ Words cannot describe how grateful I am right now.”
“You’re never too old to go after your dreams.”
