Eight Years Later

The day I wrote about in this blog post took place eight years ago today:

It was one of those typical hospital sofas.

The rubbery, terrible green, squeak-when-you-move jobs. It was long enough for a couple of people to sit on, but too short for any normal sized person to lay down on. The cushions were made of some type of foam that probably should be reserved for things like dampening vibrations in car doors.

On that hospital sofa, on a Saturday morning, my family changed forever.

If you haven’t read that post, I’d love for you to take the time to do so. I think it may be the best thing I’ve ever written, no doubt because it came from the heart.

I remember sobbing as I published it.

Today, the little boy in those photos is eight years old. Right now, he’s at school. His little sister has gymnastics this afternoon, so he and his little brother (our youngest) will have some time with my wife this afternoon after class lets out. My money says they’ll play on the playground around the corner from the school for a bit, or maybe go pick up our dog from the vet if they’re done with her.

It’s a perfectly normal day in the Hackett household, which is the biggest blessing of all.