I don't want to miss a thing

About preserving the precious present

You are growing fast. Like everyone said you would, like everyone says when they see you, like when your mom and I remember how little you were just three months ago, when we first got you home.

Every time I see you, I know it's the first and last time I will see you exactly that way. Every day there's something new: a new sound, a new gesture, a new movement. A kick, a push, or a shake. A scream, a smile, a jiggle. Everything is always changing, and always will. That is how it's supposed to be, I know that, but at times, I want moments to stay still and never end, or at least to make them last longer, playing with time as if it was dough that I could stretch at will.

I want to be present for every moment, and let nothing else get in the way. At the same time, I don't want to miss a thing, and I feel I could record almost everything you do. I want to capture every second of the day you are in. Every angle, every action, every little thing.

Because as much as I want to savour every instant as it happens, I want to store them and keep them forever. Play them back the same way I play you records every morning, because I know that, with time, moments will start to vanish from memory, and images will start to fade away.

I love watching you grow and smile.

I want to remember every moment, forever.