Tonight Sara stood, tall and proud with her fellow 1st Grade classmates at the Spring Concert, just singing away, confident on every single world, certain of every move.  The tired, lost little girl who barely mouthed the words 1 year ago had simply disappeared.  It’s possible 2 people I might know never stopped smiling, even as they hushed a cranky Kelly.  Even after the singing had ended.  After Sara had delivered her lines, which were memorized weeks ago, and completely on her own.  After she asked to have her hair curled, especially.  After she took extra time to spin onto the risers so the packed house could get a full 360 of those curls.  Her Momma knew she was putting on the dog.  Momma knows.  Momma always knows.

My cheeks still hurt from the grinning.

But as if it couldn’t get any better, the 1st and 2nd graders crowded together for a final song in unison.  Sara whispered to the girl next to her, who graciously switched places, which put Sara squarely between BOTH GRADES. She was blanketed by…her entire life.  Kids on each side smiled at her.  She was literally sandwiched in the love, the purest kind…the kind only children can carry. As they sang, “Make new friends, but keep the old…”, it’s possible I stopped breathing for a moment.  Her face was so bright.  Her eyes were solidly fixed on the crowd with a gaze so sure, so astonishingly present, I’m certain if her soul could speak, it would be telling the audience, “Thank you for witnessing my journey this year.  I made it.  I love you.”

Sara sends her love to you as well.  She has felt your cheers from across the globe, as I’ve shared your fist pumps with her.  Godspeed to you tonight my friends, and my wishes that you can feel my love for your witness of my journey as well.  Godspeed.