To my sweet daughter,
Moments are never valued until they are made memories. By then, it is too late. I feel cheated; time has robbed me of an experience I never quite understood in its short lifetime. Life is an injustice. The present is for reminiscence of the past or divination of the future, never possessing the capacity to understand what is — because when you finally do, the moment has faded into memory. I try to hold these memories like hands cupping water. Regardless of how tight I press my hands, the water leaks through. The tighter I hold, the more I realize that Time will never be sufficient.