This moment

I write this with you in my arms,
Wiggling and squirmy.
Surely it would be easier to do it another way –
Your bouncy seat or exesaucer,
Play pen or even just a blanket on the floor.
But you like to be with me.
(And I with you.)
And so we sit.
And I type.
And you babble.
And I am happy.
And I am so very grateful for this moment,
This moment when you fit so perfectly in the crook of my arm.
And you can’t quiiiiite reach the keyboard
(although you try).

And I, with great purpose, begin to wrap my mind around this moment, in all of its simplicity.
And I, with great purpose, try to observe and remember every little detail.
The way your hands reach and grasp with their own great purpose.
The way you lean forward slightly and quickly but gently breathe in and out.
The way your toes curl toward heaven, one leg snuggled close to you, the other stretching, kicking.
The way the hundreds of small strands of hair on your head wave at me.

And I try to wrap it all up and tuck it away in a secret corner of my heart, my mind.
And yet I know that although I am being so very meticulous…
This moment?
I will never be able to bring it back.
I will never again be able to breathe in this moment like I can right now.
And it makes me wonder…
In all this cataloging and remembering and documenting…
(Oh, how I document!   The words, the pictures…so carefully collected.)
But in all of this savoring and saving,
Are we losing some of this moment, this right-here-right-now?
Are we so caught up in what we want to remember
That we don’t see what is really here.

And yet here I sit, still documenting, still filing away memories,
Hoping that I will be able to recall it some day.
And realizing that I am glad that have the pictures, the words.
Because only a few months ago, a precious few months,
You didn’t smile.
You didn’t roll over.
You didn’t babble.
You didn’t reach.
And although I documented that all,
My mind betrays me.
And I can’t really remember it.
When I close my eyes, I can almost feel you on my chest.
And I can picture freeze-frame moments of time, but it’s hazy.
And I can pull up from deep within me the feelings I felt,
the emotions that surrounded me in that moment.
But they aren’t as vivid as they once were.
And I know, oh how I know,
That my memories will slowly evaporate,
Leaving me with nothing but a foggy cloud of “I vaguely remember”s.

I hold your brothers, your sister in my arms.
I see them as they are now.
And some say that with closed eyes and an open mind,
They can see you as you are now and as you were.
But I?
I can’t.
I close my eyes and see you as you are.
And I open my heart and see you as I hope you will be.
But looking back is difficult for me.
And so I write, I photograph.
And I capture you as you are now.
So that I can look, I can read,
And I can come back to this moment.
Because this moment is incredibly beautiful.
And I am so very grateful that we are both here.