Here’s to brothers who give you and your husband the best date nights in town, who bring pasta home from Italy in their backpacks, who are happy when they look at their kitchen sinks, and who will always have enough American bread and peanut butter and jelly on hand, just in case they get stuck ...
We’ve all messed up. We’ve all failed. We may not all have the same stories, but we all have backpacks. This journey has helped me to be thankful for my backpack. To be thankful for the tears and the hardships and the challenges.