I wonder how often we aware of the last time we do a particular thing, at the time we are doing it. Like the last time we talk to somebody. The last time we change a nappy. The last time we kiss a lover. The last time we hold hands with our dad.
I was thinking about that tonight after getting frustrated with my kids for not getting out of the bath exactly when I wanted them to; for not being quiet at the moment I asked them to as they went to bed; for asking me to lay down with them until they fell asleep.
As I was laying next to them as they fell asleep, my three year old was asking me to tell him about memories I had of his life. thinking about all that has passed in his three years reminded me that having the magic of my kids wanting me to hold their hand as they fall asleep will also pass.
How to embody the magic of each moment when so much conspires to rob away the joy?