The sun rose with a hesitant promise, reminiscent of our mornings at The Residence Inn just a week ago. Yet, today bore the weight of something more, a complexity tied to Owen's journey. His surgery meant no food could pass his lips, a challenge for a young soul accustomed to morning delights. Yet, he showed resilience, only voicing his discomfort briefly before bravely sipping on the water he was allowed.

Packing up felt different this time. Leaving wasn't just about checking out from a temporary stay but moving closer to answers. Our drive to OHSU Doernbecher Children's Hospital was filled with silence and attempts at light-hearted conversations, anything to ease the tension that clung to us. While transitioning from our arms to Nana's stroller, which Owen thankfully welcomed.

The hospital, a place of hope and anxiety, greeted us with its familiar hustle. But today, instead of the rooms of routine checks, we were guided to the operating room—a space that, despite its sterility, was about to become a crucible for our son's courage. Owen, ever observant, noticed the shift in scenery, his curiosity mingling with an unspoken curiosity.

The pre-op rituals unfolded with clinical precision—labs, vitals, and discussions on Owen's health. His resilience shone through the numbers, a testament to his fighting spirit and the collective hope of everyone rooting for him. Yet, beneath the veneer of optimism, hunger gnawed at him, a challenge we attempted to mitigate with the promise of his request—McDonald's, a solution he hungered for.

The operation loomed ahead, its reality softened by a gentle lie about "special medicine" that — unbeknownst to Owen — would ease him into sleep. It was a moment of surrender, trusting in the doctors' skill and our son's strength. The wait was a test of patience, a period filled with silent prayers and hopeful thoughts until we were reunited in the recovery room.

Owen's awakening was met with relief and a playful narrative of an accidental nap, to which he giggled. This light-hearted moment briefly lifted the day's weight. True to our word, McDonald's became our next destination, where joy was measured in chicken nuggets and fries, and a simple play area reminded us of the harsh realities of our journey. Owen's attempt to play, hindered by his weakened state, was a stark contrast to his climbing to the top of one just one month and a day ago. It's a reminder of the battles still ahead, casting a shadow over our temporary reprieve.

The drive home was a quiet reflection, a mix of gratitude for the day's success and a lingering sadness for the moments of childhood lost to illness. Our return was not just a physical journey but an emotional one, settling into the familiar comfort of home with the knowledge of the road ahead.

In the simplicity of our evening routine—movies, laughter, and eventually, sleep—there was a profound appreciation for these moments of normalcy. Watching Owen sleep, we saw a poignant mix of joy and sorrow, a parent's silent vow to cherish every moment and every breath.

This journey, marked by days like these, is a testament to Owen's resilience, love, and indomitable spirit. It's a story of facing the unthinkable with grace, finding joy amid challenges, and holding onto hope, even when it feels elusive. As we navigate this path, we do so together, strengthened by each other and by the love that binds us, ever hopeful for the days when breakfast is just breakfast and play is just play.