Noah and I had some sort of special connection that I don't think I can even begin to describe. He was my little man, and as his big sister, he looked up to me. To him, I was "Dangy," a name he had come up with several years ago. Needless to say, it stuck, and I will always remember how he would leap into my arms the second he saw me, his beautiful blue eyes alight with mischief but also something else: affection. It was his own little way of expressing his love and adoration for me; I held on tight to my little man, and I still do.
Noah and Arielle turned six a month ago today. Several days before that, their father, Lenny, and I took all three of them out to their absolute favorite restaurant: The Melting Pot. Noah was ecstatic. When we sat down and got our pots of melted cheese-- Swiss cheese for me and Lenny and cheddar for the kids -- Noah instantly wanted to try ours. He always marched to the beat of his own drum and was incredibly stubborn, so I figured it was no use to try and dissuade him. Upon dipping his bread into our pot of cheese and trying it, he exclaimed, "Wow, that is the best cheese I ever had!!!" He did not hesitate to take more, as much as he wanted, a smile on his face the whole time. I am convinced that he is eating Swiss cheese fondue up in the clouds. Now you can have all the Swiss cheese fondue and tacos you want, Little Man.
That's what I will remember about Noah. He was so excited about life; as a six-year-old, he knew nothing of the evils of the world. Instead, he knew Super Mario on the Wii. He loved practicing his "ninja moves" with a fake sword. He loved superheroes and Star Wars and all of the things little boys love.
I want to live my life in Noah's memory. In order to do that, I have to be even half as excited about life as Noah was. I want to make my little man proud.