I promise to hold you as long as you want me to. As long as those chubby, little fingers are wrapped around mine, I promise to fore go all other chores, dishes, phone calls, and unnecessary luxuries. If that means writing by candlelight with the moon illuminating overhead and sleeping a few hours to awaken with the sun, those few hours in the early dawn are worth seeing your sweet little face. I want to be present for all of it.
Each day, I try to figure a means to stretch the minutes, to freeze the daylight, to etch the memories in my mind forever. I relish the sweet baby smell and chuckle that this little babe smells like graham crackers.
Everything I do, every breath I take, is intentional and heartfelt. I live for God and family. I live for Him, my husband, and my son. In those twilight hours, when slumber beckons me, my husband reaches across and grasps my hand. I trace the outline of those hard-working hands, knowing he works without complaint and without reprieve. I only wish the bank thought that way.
Those older women in the market look on and say, "Enjoy it, it goes so fast."
I'm not going to miss a second of it. At the end of my life, I'm not betting on riches. I'm betting on love, on family, on being there. This little family of mine is intertwined, interwoven without a beginning or an end. This legacy will reach beyond my lifetime, something that time cannot change.