I needed to take a moment. I’m finding a place to write about the longings and small, meaningful interactions that happen in your busy day.

A Love That Lives in the Small Moments

The melody drifts through the room, soft and familiar, Carol King’s “Home Again” playing from a speaker nearby. My memory stretches back, searching, until I find it—me, ten years old, dancing eagerly before you, desperate to show you my routine, waiting for your smile, your approval, your love wrapped in the warmth of your gaze. You always saw me, truly saw me, and that meant everything. When I ask you the reason behind playing the song, you try to find the memory, and I remind you. We smile.

You have a way of noticing—really noticing—the small, beautiful details that make life extraordinary. Like the way Spencer described his wife and newborn, calling them amazing with a reverence that lingered in the air. You collect words like treasures, jotting down expressions that strike your heart—When the music is playing, make sure you dance—tiny reminders to embrace joy, to live fully. This quote was written on a piece of paper, lying among all the items on the table. You’ve taught me that presence matters, that words hold weight, that love is carried not only in grand gestures but in the quiet observations of another’s soul.

You make time for beauty, for stillness, for the wonder of growing things. And when we pause long enough, when we steal a moment just to look into each other’s eyes and say I love you, there is a knowing—unspoken but understood. A recognition that time is fleeting, that each moment is a gift, that we are here, together, now.

I wonder how many more times we will get a moment like this. But instead of dwelling in that uncertainty, I choose to savor the now. The music, the laughter, the love that fills the space between us. Because in the end, it’s not just the memories we make—it’s the way we truly see each other that endures. And you, Mom, have always tried to see me. In fact, you said to me, “I see you, Anna.” This expression was after organizing a family event. I told her, sometimes when you work so hard behind the scenes, it doesn’t feel like you are seen, but it is worth it. The joy.

Time is fascinating. We navigate through a series of journeys and seasons. It feels like a lifetime ago that I was a child, and we shared in the joys and challenges of mother/daughter. Perhaps during those years, we didn’t fully see or understand each other. Yet, God has blessed us with the ability to endure through the years, just as all mothers and daughters do. Now, those years have led us to aging together.

I told you about a friend’s discovery of a bird in Oregon, and you wanted to see it. I pulled the picture up on my phone, and you clapped your hands with joy. It is those things that make our lives rich.

I love you, Mom.

Thank you for the memories and all the stories.

The video is our random conversation. You may need to turn it up to hear, and hopefully, you have closed captioning on. I did not video her for privacy, but wanted the conversation for my heart memories.