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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.

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