You'd be 5 years old today, Micah. You are so very loved and so very missed and so very celebrated. I wonder what you'd be interested in-- if you'd be an artist or love dinosaurs or princesses or if I'd be ten pounds lighter from chasing you around the yard in the evenings when it's finally cooled off a little.
I miss you, kid, and I grieve for who you could have grown to be. I will never understand why you couldn't stay longer. But for the first time on your birthday, mama's doing fine. Mama's stronger than ever. Mama will never be the same because of you.