May 20

I don't always interpret songs they way I think the writer intends they be understood. That's the beauty of music: no matter what the author had in mind during the creative process, a single song can mean different things to different people. With that said, this song came on the radio while I was sitting in the car with Brady outside preschool this morning:

It's You Save Me by Kenny Chesney.

I've told variations of this story many times before, but it bears repeating today. During the early stages of Logan's treatment protocol when life felt much too large and scary --like some sort of ill-fitting wool coat that threatened to swallow me up in its folds of heavy, dark fabric-- the thought of Brady nestled safely in my belly kept me safe on more than one occasion. He kept me from making any rash decisions I --or others-- would regret later on. He... saved me.

So as I sat sipping my coffee and humming along with this song, it suddenly held new meaning for me, so I turned to Brady, who was standing behind me munching on a hash brown, and sang it in his direction. And then he did something surprising: he swallowed, looked at me with a curious expression, smiled, and said 'you save me.'

It was probably a moment of pure silliness on his part. But he was also right: we kind of saved each other.

And for that blessing... I'm forever and ever grateful.