Ten packed a wallop of melancholy. It turns out that Atticus was as sad about taking one more step into the big unknown as we were watching him go. All we wanted was for things to stay small and huggable. Is that too much to ask?
Apparently so, and with that we have accepted our fates and looked into the big, bright future. There is adventure there, and it is his for the taking.
Happy birthday, Atticus. Make all the wishes you can carry.