Remember this day. It was one year ago. Some 365 days ago. 52 weeks precisely. Countless hours. Untold-about minutes. Time has certainly elapsed. And there just is no way to simply put, to easily say, summarily describe how relentlessly blessed and wonderful life has become.
Scrolling through pictures and videos and memories has been a marvelous delight. Remember when he first smiled. Remember when he first laughed. Remember his first Opening Day. Remember when he rolled over onto his stomach. Remember when he rolled over onto his back. Remember when he started to croll. Remember when he started to crawl. Remember when he first said Momma and Dadda. Remember his first tantrum. Remember his first haircut, bath, outfit, giggle, chuckle. Remember when he broke his leg. Remember when he first danced. Remember his first steps. Remember how his eyes light up something magical and happy at just about every moment.
To measure this time, as we are doing today with baseball cupcakes and caterpillar cakes, with wagons and gloves, to measure it is an immense task; like nothing else. Comparable to no other thing. It's grandness, it's largeness, lies in not recalling when a first happened, or when he did a certain thing, like when he laughed insatiably because he was being tickled. It lies not in remembering the events of the past year. The true realization of the strength and power of today's celebration is remembering a time when this was not so. Isaac has so filled our lives with an indescribable essence that it has overflowed from moment to moment, seeped into the past and flows just as endlessly into the future.
This year has composed moments we can measure and capture and quantify. It has consisted of the one thing beyond measure: Our love that has grown larger than the days, larger than the weeks and months, larger than the mere year that has gone by.
Happy Birthday Isaac.
How I love you.
Scrolling through pictures and videos and memories has been a marvelous delight. Remember when he first smiled. Remember when he first laughed. Remember his first Opening Day. Remember when he rolled over onto his stomach. Remember when he rolled over onto his back. Remember when he started to croll. Remember when he started to crawl. Remember when he first said Momma and Dadda. Remember his first tantrum. Remember his first haircut, bath, outfit, giggle, chuckle. Remember when he broke his leg. Remember when he first danced. Remember his first steps. Remember how his eyes light up something magical and happy at just about every moment.
To measure this time, as we are doing today with baseball cupcakes and caterpillar cakes, with wagons and gloves, to measure it is an immense task; like nothing else. Comparable to no other thing. It's grandness, it's largeness, lies in not recalling when a first happened, or when he did a certain thing, like when he laughed insatiably because he was being tickled. It lies not in remembering the events of the past year. The true realization of the strength and power of today's celebration is remembering a time when this was not so. Isaac has so filled our lives with an indescribable essence that it has overflowed from moment to moment, seeped into the past and flows just as endlessly into the future.
This year has composed moments we can measure and capture and quantify. It has consisted of the one thing beyond measure: Our love that has grown larger than the days, larger than the weeks and months, larger than the mere year that has gone by.
Happy Birthday Isaac.
How I love you.
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