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September 05, 2008

Comments

K

Sending good thoughts

Jennifer

I really, REALLY hate this for you.

Susan

Oh no!! Keeping all of you in my heart tonight, especially Annika.

Lisa V

Oh Moreena. Thinking of all you.

Candace Moegling

I wish there was something to do to help. All I can do is pray, and I hope it's enough.

arlopop

Annika, you and your family are in our thoughts. If sheer volume of thoughts, prayers and hopes makes a difference things will be ok.

Laurie

WTH? Oh Moreena. I don't know what to say. Prayers coming your way and every which way.

L.

Ditto....

Summer Kaplan

Our thoughts and prayers are with you...from another Anika and her mom.

Tanya

I don't know what to say. That really sucks!! I'm thinking of you all and hoping there's better news soon.

Kathryn

Love and prayers from here too.

rchapple

Moreena, I have followed your story for a long time, and my heart cries out for your pain. She has such a strong, loving mommy! I will keep you and Frankie in my prayers, that the Lord will give her the strength to attack whatever comes at her and you the strength to make it one day at a time. My love is with you.

rchapple

I meant Annika, of course, and I meant to say separately that I am thinking of Frankie... that came out all wrong!

moxiemomma

thinking of you.
xomox

christine

awwww....crap. Keeping her in my thoughts and prayers.

Katharine

If I weren't busy with classes and this was around winter break and my parents wouldn't totally go batshit on me, I'd donate a chunk of my liver if she needed it.

Katharine

I'm in Madison, so visiting you in Chicago isn't completely infeasible.

jessica

oh Moreena...have been away from blogs for a few days and jeez I hope everything os ok for you and Anni. this stuff is just awful...you have my deepest respect for holding up so well.

Wishing you the best, as always.

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Falling Down, November 2004

  • Balloon in hand, my 4-year-old
    twirled across the kitchen floor,
    singing nonsense words
    in her own key.
    "It's my gift!" she declared
    to the world at large, which
    was really only me,
    sitting at the table. Enough
    twirling, and she lost
    her balance, tumbling
    to the floor in a theatrical
    slapstick of elbows and knees.

    She lay on her back
    for a few seconds,
    staring
    at the textured ceiling
    with the mysterious
    spaghetti sauce stain.
    Suddenly she
    began
    flapping her arms and legs
    there on the floor, as if to swish
    the imaginary snow
    into a snow angel.

    "Falling down is also a gift!" says she.

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