Each night, as she listens to my wife read to her, I lift my daughter’s tiny feet from my wife’s lap and kiss them. She smiles at me. Sometimes she laughs. Sometimes she giggles. Then her eyes return to the book.
I do this because I know there will come a day when I can no longer kiss my daughter’s little feet, and when that day comes, I do not want to regret not having done so enough.
I think this way a lot in terms of Clara, grabbing every moment that I can, soaking it in and cherishing it as much as possible, knowing that with every day comes new experiences and newfound joys but also fewer and fewer of the old ones.
