My little vixen, vibrant and strong, always leading the pack, so full of adventure. How I loved and missed my little girl yet incredibly proud of who she’d become.
She hadn’t changed much, still so full of life, living and joie de vivre. Every moment oozing vitality, vigor and the desire to eke out every experience life offered, to the fullest. My girl was not meek, did not simper at scrapes, bugs or adversity but plunged headlong into the next adventure that awaited.
A wealth of experiences gathered from around the world – hiking across continents, the proud leader of trecks in Macchu Picchu, the Appalachian Mountains, and most recently, The Bay of Fires. She never failed to send pictures including me in each adventure and I felt as though I was carried along in her jacket pocket, partaking in every moment of fun, each escapade.
Yet I knew the caring loving compassionate side that would impel her to sit by my side, to take care of me. Now I must be brave and strong, force her to continue her adventures. Out there in the great wide world, not sitting aimlessly by my side awaiting the inevitable.