Tomorrow, March 10th, it will be six years. It amazes me how Parker's illness continues to define our lives, even though we vowed it would not. Some things you can't control. That's one of them. What we can control, we do. Like health, and happiness, and being grateful every single day for the miracle of life, for understanding how the struggle we went through changed us for the better, because now we look back on it, 2,190 days later, and know we will never be the same, but that never-the-sameness comes with huge blessings.

My sons, both of them, are my miracles. Since Parker's illness my younger son, James, moved to Austin, has a great career with Apple while in college full time, and continues to be our steady rock, a part of his personality that emerged during his brother's crisis. My father passed away; my mother is thriving in a retirement community she loves; I sold two books to HarperCollins Children's; and moved to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, the place of my dreams.

Parker has made great strides in his recovery. It took a long, long time for his central nervous system to reboot after the weeks and weeks of being medicated and on the ventilator. His path has taken some twists and turns he didn't really want, but he has risen above every challenge and is marching forth with optimism and that famous courage that saved him.

Since his illness, we are stronger. We love more fully, we appreciate with greater abundance, we never, ever forget the generosity and kindness of strangers, and we give back every chance we can.

Blessings. So many blessings.