Vivian

Today, Vivian is fighting for her life. And that's very good news.

She was pulled off her ventilator two days ago. Her parents and friends were at her bedside, thinking that this meant goodbye.

She's five.

Vivian was diagnosed with leukemia when she was just five months old. She underwent treatments and her leukemia went into remission. When she was four years old, her leukemia relapsed. Her parents, friends of ours from graduate school, started a fundraising effort to get Vivian CAM treatments, offered in Europe. Again, she underwent treatment and seemed to respond well to it. We had been getting e-mails about how that was going, how she was fighting, how she was improving.

But last week, she took a turn. And last Thursday, her parents decided to remove the ventilator that was helping her breathe.

Vivian is, well, vivacious, and, as I hear it, just a little stubborn. That puts her in a class of preschooler I know all too well.

We--Bear, Finn, and I--met her when she was about a year old, I guess. Finn was five months. He bobbed his head around in curiosity, watching her run around the living room and eat pretend food off her lap.

We've only met her the one time, but she's a hard girl to forget. Her soul, like her laughter, fills your heart.

This is my very little way of putting her in the hearts and hopes of others. I'm not much into prayer circles. I really can't say that I know what those are. But if you have one, please add her to it.

"Vivian" means life. And whatever happens, she'll always be a giggle, a steady glow, and a reminder of what's worth fighting for.