She is a thirty-pound, unusually tall, two and a half year old spitfire. She has piercing, almond shaped blue-green eyes, adorable dimples, and the kind of smile that sparkles all over her face and twinkles in her eyes.

She is a dancer, even when she was sitting in her hospital bed, she would hear music and couldn’t help but to shake it all about. Shaking her hips, shoulders, and tush, she danced; greeting us with her moves. The doctors whimsically wondered what her future profession might hold!

She is a singer and a music lover. Especially when Blue Ribbon Bunny, Bubble Guppies, or Sofia the First plays through the speakers. As we were driving in the car listening to Princess Sofia’s I Belong, she hummed along mastering the “fah’s” the “la’s” and the “ah’s” too. She suddenly paused to make sure we were all singing along too. After confirming and appearing satisfied, she drew my face close to hers and placed her ear near my mouth, listening, she continued, harmonizing and synchronizing with my notes.

She is a show off! The first time she did patty-cake - with all the motions, she looked around to see who was giving her applause. If you weren’t, she carefully walked towards you; clapping her hands. Her eyebrows creased and serious, a slight smile on her thin mouth, her head down turned, peeking at you through mischievously glaring eyes. You couldn’t hide from her, she wouldn’t stop until you started.  

She playfully moves through the water like an otter. She will linger, submerged, until she turns blue and shivers. As she joyfully propels down the winding slide, droplets splashing in her beaming face, she shrieks with delight “Again!” You would never have guessed this last year at this time. She screamed, shook, and cried out as she was placed in a cold, slippery tub and bathed by an unfamiliar face.

She has thin, wavy, beautiful, golden-blonde hair that just touches her the base of her neck and her eyelashes are long, dark and thick. Just last year ghastly, smooth skin took their place. Gradually soft, fuzzy, frail “S” shaped wisps grew as if to sprout new life; displaying her superhero status triumphing over the plague that threatened to consume her body.

She is altruistic, selfless. As we gravely waited in the hallway after her first surgery to implant her port, our heads were downcast, minds stuck on the long journey ahead. Carefully and slowly the nurse rolled her down the hallway in a moveable cradle. As we glanced up we saw her, laying down in pain helplessly. In a moment she saw us, standing wearily. Through puffy, purple, pale skinned eyes she embraced us, slightly smiled, and clapped. It was as if to say don’t be so glum, we’re together now and everything is going to be okay, so SMILE! and we did through pitter pattered hearts and teary pinched eyes.  

She is a survivor... the strongest person I know. Tragedy struck; she was only six months old when they found the malignant tumor - a sacrococcygeal teratoma to be exact. One surgery wasn’t enough.. nor was two... she needed three... over the course of a year to remove every last jello-y fragment of the abnormal multiplying cells, but it didn’t stop there. She endured Stem Cell Therapy and Chemotherapy twice, the second cocktail worse than the first. She fought like a girl and she beat it.

She is refreshingly naughty. Not in the noncompliant, evil way, but in a terrible two sense of the word. In an exploring her world apart from hospital beds, machines, and tubes way. She curiously and cautiously peered around to see who was watching as she swiped her nookie from the counter and dashed down the hallway, Aunties chasing her she shrieked and giggled into the safety of the corner.

She is resilient. Like Bamboo she bends, but she has not broken. Throughout everything she has endured,  she has emerged refined, stronger than before.