Ella
Six years ago today, my youngest little person was born. Elizabeth Maxwell Black was born to a tough life, and made her hard way through what would likely have been the toughest three months of it.
One of the pictures I most-often think of is of a little girl in a bouncy, reclined but not lazily so. She had her most mature expression, and I always imagine she was telling me, “It’ll be okay, Dad. I’m strong, remember?”
She was strong. And I miss her. I’m visiting her today for the first time in years, even though she’s not there, even though it’s just for me. I’m okay with that today, because it’s the closest I can get.
We’ll blow out the candles for you.
