We went on a hike with Jack and Joe through the woods of Glover Archibold Park at the end of 39th Street. It was fun. The leaves were falling from the trees like snow. The difference was they made a lot of noise as they fell. I thought back to a memory I have of me carrying you out of the house while it was snowing. I told you to look up and try to catch snowflakes in your mouth. I was pretty worried about stuff that went into your body so that was either before your transplant or I thought the snow that was falling wasn't too dirty or polluted. Sometimes I got carried away. There was one time after you had your transplant and we were in your hospital room and I was trying to get you to a pill because your blood pressure had gotten too high. It was the middle of the night and neither of us was getting any sleep and by accident I dropped it on the floor. I picked it up and gave it to you to take. After you took it your blood pressure went down but I couldn't shake the idea that you might get sick (and maybe die) from a germ that got on the pill when it hit the floor. I held my breath for days worrying that you were going to get an infection. You didn't.
Jack learned two things on the hike
1. How to blow through an empty acorn top and whistle
2. How to burn a leaf with a magnifying glass and the sun.
I keep this book right by my bed.
Maybe one day Jack and I will hike the Appalachian Trail. I told you in one of my earlier letters that I had wanted to do it with you when you got better. Maybe Jack and I can collect pledges for every mile we hike and raise money for the Hope for Henry Foundation. We'll see. Whatever he wants to do.
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