For a moment I pictured you at five-years-old tucked in my arm begging me to read you your favorite story one more time. I saw you at seven telling me about what happened at school that day. I pictured you at 11 asking me to leave the light on because you were still a little afraid of the monsters in the closet. I pictured you at 15 tired from soccer practice or band practice or choir practice or video game practice (whatever you choose as your passion). I saw you at 18 and I even pictured you walking down the aisle on your wedding day.
I saw all these things in that moment. I realize years separate us from those moments, but if years fly like this first one has flown, then it truly is just moments separating us from those moments.
I began to put you down in your crib and you collapsed on my chest like you were asking me to hold you just a little longer. And I sat there holding you for just a few more moments because some day you may not let me hold you. Some day the opportunity for these moments may not exist like they existed tonight on your very first Halloween.