My Dearest Bobby,

I just found these amazing confetti T-Cells you used to make for me. When I’d hear the hole-puncher clicking and you’d come out to help me sprinkle them on my head my heart would beam. They’d “hug my cells the way moons hug planets,” you explained. One time when I asked you to be careful not to sprinkle them on my bad cells, you said “you gotta love all your cells, Mom, especially the bad ones.” I didn’t think you understood how terrible those cells were. Tonight I’m realizing that I was the one who didn’t understand that just because something is bad doesn’t mean it can’t become good. I’ve learned that remission is just bad cells learning that they are hurting their host.

I’ve tried so hard to find the words to tell you how wise I think you are. I need to share some great news with you. How do you tell a boy who is your baby, that he is your hero? I realize it’s not through words at all. I just bought the ingredients to make the pies you’ve been wanting to make together to share with strangers. This is such a perfect way to celebrate that today’s full moon marks my first official year of remission! Let’s go share our happiness with the world, under the gravity of the hugging moon.

All my Love,

Mom