Where did all our time go Holly?  It feels like yesterday when you first jumped into the bed full of spunk and curled your tiny body against mine to it declare your undisputed territory.  You measured our yesterdays by jumping out of canoes and into the lake, chasing away deer and running away from the rain, sitting on our feet/your couch waiting for your piece of the toast, and trading gentle kisses between your neck and my nose.  Today is measured in tears and ache but also the wonder that so small a frame could hold such a beautiful combination of courage and grace.  You are teaching me that time does not stand and the only real sin is taking it, and those around me, for granted.  I'm learning too that regretting isn't the same as remembering.  And I have so many good memories stored in my heart where I won't forget them.  I'll be forever grateful that we moved to Hornby for the last years of your long life where you shed your city leash and could roam and prowl free.

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