I hugged Cooper close and looked out as the sun set over the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was the last day of 2011 and he was keeping me warm. Some things change you into someone who can appreciate the love that a child is capable of.
The stone overlook was just high enough of a barrier between real life and the holiday. I was there on the side of the beautiful North Carolina mountains; the valley and city a short drive below. We had left the past few weeks buried, and for a day, we were gone.
All I needed now was Brett by my side and my baby boy's arm around my neck. There we were, looking out at it all. With a baby girl on her way.
As the evening approached, Brett and I weren't preparing to celebrate. We were only thinking of leaving one year behind and bracing for the next. But just as the holidays somehow do, if you let them, magic sparked. As the minutes ticked down we were feeling slightly anew. Looking back, I don't know if it was the promise of a fresh start or the shaking off of the past few weeks, but we were approaching a happy new year, again.
Right before dinner, we had some time to wait. It was unseasonably warm. The cold was holding off and the sun shattered the sky - giving us one last display.
There were a dozen shades of pink.
I knew what mother nature was saying.
I showed Cooper the horizon. The next time we would see it so clearly would be at the beach that next summer. Elle would be with us.
As a parent you want to give your child the opportunity to run past that line - to reach every corner of what's beyond. That's why the news of Club Feet was so difficult. We were being forced to find a solution before we even started. How could we make sure both of our children had the same starting line...
and the same bright sky?