I have no memory of my son when he was as small as my daughter is now. Which means that, more than likely, I will have no memory of my daughter when she is as small as she currently is- which is, really, as small as she'll ever be.
I don't know what to make of this impending loss. The idea of trying to seize the memory, pin its wings and make it stay, makes me sad. But so does letting it fly.
I'll settle for half-measures- taking the pulse of the day, feeling its flutter against my skin.
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