I wrote this journal entry one year ago today. It's one of many entries I look back on to remember my journey with breast cancer, to capture the emotions that preceded the ones I have now, to chart just how far I have come since the day of my diagnosis. This is one of my happier journal entries -- written at a time when I was coming back to life after surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation, when I was happy to be alive and in the company of two little boys whose simplicity inspired me.

My hats were once so important to me. Now they are scattered all over the floor of my bedroom closet. Once my daily camouflage for what cancer had done to me, my hats are now toys. Joey and Danny play with them and toss them around and wear them -- sometimes one at a time and sometimes they pile as many as they can on top of their little blond heads. The hats hold no real significance to them -- they are just playthings and while Joey can recall that I wore them at one time, the emotion wrapped up in the pale blue sleep cap and the black Nike ball cap and the yellow bucket hat is lost on him. I consider this a blessing -- that one day, he and Danny will likely have very little memory of this cancer adventure and that they may only remember what fun it was to wear so many hats.