Happy happy birthday to my dear Remi-roo. You are the spunkiest, most hot and cold child I have ever met, and I love you dearly for it. You are solidly your own little person, but game for so many things. You love being the villain. You insisted on Darth Vader pajamas. You give the best hugs, and always want to know where Ol’ Sport is. You love Uncle Jason and laugh when he teases you, then take extra steps to protect that cookie of yours. You are wonderful and I love you so much!
Happiest of Birthdays to the second red-head in the family! Finley-bear, I love you so much. I love to hold you, bribe you with carbs, and watch you follow after your sisters. I adore the look of constant worry on your face. It’s the cutest. I’m so glad to have you in our family. LOVE YOU!
This D-Day is extra special to me.
Less than a week ago, on June 1st, I stood on Omaha beach. I stood in the sand where they bled, died, fought, screamed, and won. I stood on the beach looking out at the English Channel and imagined it filled with ships. I imagined the sounds of German gunfire, the pounding booms from the ship guns, the rifle fire of the men charging up on those beaches. I stood on Omaha beach and listened to the quiet whisper of a nearby tour guide explaining that the French people here don’t want our boys to be forgotten, that they watched them die to free them and they still try to honor that. I stood there with American flags flapping in a cool breeze next to a monument surrounded by flowers set lovingly around it. I stood where they stood, and cried.