I want to remember.
I want to remember the sound of your little feet pitter-pattering across our tile floor.
I want to remember the way the sun hits your little pigtails, perfectly illuminating the gold streaks that I know are God’s way of showing his workmanship.
I want to remember little hands holding the brush and little smiles and giggles as you chase the dog around the porch.
I want to remember the way the wind blows the trees in the backyard, with the birds singing and the sun peeking out from behind their leaves.
I want to remember all of these moments with you, baby girl. You make my memories my most treasured possession.
I want to remember.
I want to remember the sound of your little feet pitter-pattering across our tile floor.
I want to remember the way the sun hits your little pigtails, perfectly illuminating the gold streaks that I know are God’s way of showing his workmanship.
I want to remember little hands holding the brush and little smiles and giggles as you chase the dog around the porch.
I want to remember the way the wind blows the trees in the backyard, with the birds singing and the sun peeking out from behind their leaves.
I want to remember all of these moments with you, baby girl. You make my memories my most treasured possession.
I want to remember.
