It has been over a year now and chemotherapy is still going strong. There are several more months to go, but now I see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's far away and very dim, but I see it.
Then he was three years old, weak from long stays in the hospital, shaky from medication. Now he will be five years old tomorrow. He's strong, still shaky, sweet and growing up. I'm thankful for the tantrums, the "outside voice" he uses inside, the jeans with the holes in the knee from playing, and the messes of trains he leaves behind him wherever he goes. Because he's here. He's fighting cancer and he's winning.