This is the poppy I will wear at 11AM to commemorate all the members of the armed forces who have fought – or are currently fighting – in our wars. They’ve done so much for us that it’s hard to put into words. The two minutes’ silence will be held, as we have so much to be thankful for, and there’s so much we owe them. It seems only fitting that we take the time out of our lives every year to remember. My godfather served in the RAF during WWII, and has so many stories of the people he met (most of them being American girls. Ahem), the guys he served with, and, most importantly, the tales of the many fights he had in the sky with the Luftwaffe.
I will never forget all the things he has taught me for as long as I live.

This is the chocolate-covered profiterole/cream puff I will eat to remember Maddie Spohr, the little girl who would have been celebrating her second birthday today, if she hadn’t suddenly died on the 7th of April this year.
I first heard about her when the hashtag #Maddie became a trending topic on Twitter on that very same day. When I finally had a chance to visit the blog belonging to Heather, Maddie’s mother (for all of this attention had made her server crash), my first thought was disbelief. There was only a sentence mentioning her very unexpected death, and the rest of the posts showed off Maddie’s mischievous and vibrant personality. Someone like Maddie that was so bright and full of life couldn’t be taken away so soon, could she?
Fate is cruel.
I immediately changed my Twitter page to purple, her colour, like many others who had read of her passing. As the months passed, I continued to read Heather’s blog, and my heart broke a little bit more each day for her. As much as I love her blog, I would have given anything to have never known her through her words, if only Maddie was still living.
Today is Maddie’s birthday. Last year, on her first and only birthday, her birthday treat was a giant cream puff. On the other side of the pond, the closest thing I could find were these little chocolate profiteroles.
I will gorge myself on chocolate and cream today to celebrate the birthday of a little girl I never knew, but one who has had such a profound effect on me in the past couple of months in the way no one else never could.

Today will be a day of remembering. Those who have died for us, those who are fighting for us, and all those who were taken too soon. I will hold my two minutes of silence, eat my profiteroles in the messiest way possible, and remember.