I’ve been a bit weepy today but, for a good reason. Last night, for the first time, I dreamed about my Sophie and remembered it when I woke up. Jonathan has had several dreams about her and I haven’t had any. Then I woke up this morning with tears rolling down my face as I recalled precious dreams.

I dreamed that the three of us-my sweet little family-were at our little pink house just playing. It was like a movie of our perfect little life together. Jonathan was chasing her down the hall to hide from me behind the long maxi dresses in my closet. Sophie running to hide in her poop spot-the laundry hamper. Her slamming her door and us popping into her room after her. Walking laps outside in the yard ‘powwing’ bugs, looking for sticks and picking yellow flowers. Piled under stuffed animals watching a Trolls on our Sittin’ Raffe chair. Tea parties, book reading, stickers, and hours of her sorting all of her toys into piles. We prayed before dinner and ate our Mac-n-cheese and chicken nuggets. Bath time was had with our little duck and brachiosaurus song. Then we brushed teeth and got in the big bed to watch Curious George.

The perfect day. The perfect dream. Our perfectly imperfect life.

What I would give to have it back. But I can’t get it back, at least not here. So, until I can have it back in Eternity, I’ll be forever thankful that I was allowed to have that life. It was far too short and the life it’s been replaced with has a Sophie shaped hole in it that will never be filled. But I can truly, without regret, say that we LIVED a full life with her while she was here. She knew she was loved. She was played with and read to. She was chased and tickled and kissed. She was sang to and cuddled. She ran the house but was taught boundaries.

She lived.

And even though she’s gone, that life lives on in us, in our memories of her, and in our dreams.