It sits parked on a street between our house and Abby's school, and as odd as it may seem, I can see God in those swirls of paint. I can still hear the echo of Logan's gleeful voice chirping look, a flame job! from inside our stroller as we walked our homeward path.
It takes me back. It makes me remember. And on the eve of my Sunshine's half-birthday, I can't --and wouldn't-- ask for anything more.
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