Tiny fingerprints and hot breath on cold wet glass.
My arm through my father’s as we cross a busy intersection for the 26th year.
Bouncing and singing in a department store mirror with a squealing bundle strapped to my back.
Laughing silhouettes wrapped in a gauze curtain, a different father and daughter, the cycle begins anew.
Her eyes on the little ants 26 stories below, enchanted just like mine.
Our living room lit by Christmas, dusk and a sleeping infant across my lap.
I stopped to breathe.
So much racing from place to place and preparing, preparing, preparing. All gone in a flash. Slow down, these words repeat in my head. Slow down, slow down, slow down. It will all get done, or it won’t. What matters is us, in these little moments, aware and grateful.
Everything else can wait.
Merry Christmas from me.