I Need a Little Magic Wand

I had one of those moments again this morning, where I just wanted to freeze time with a little magic wand.

The 6:30 sun was peeking out from beneath the curtains in Emmy’s room, creating dancing light patterns on the walls. The birds were chirping their daylight tunes in the quiet of the morning. And my little girl was cuddled in my arms, looking at my face, smiling and saying “mama”.

Em’s little cozy, snuggly body, her breath on my face, her saying my name, her beautiful smile. The dancing sun. The sound of little bird songs. It was a soft collision of perfect parts. It was wonderful. It was full of wonder.

I love these moments. And I hate them.

I love them for being so simple in their elegance, so gentle in their touch, and yet so mind-blowingly special. I love them for stopping me in my tracks and opening up all my senses, requiring 100% of my presence. I love them for giving me a glimpse of life’s pure meaning.

But I hate the fact that these moments are so fleeting, that I can’t hold on to them for more than a minute or so. Emmy will start to squirm away and a plane will fly overhead and an alarm clock will start to go off and my brain and body will have to start multi-tasking again. A brilliant moment is once again forced into the past.

I need a little magic wand.