As my foot took its first step in ascent of the final hill, the clouds split and thick beams of sunshine shone over me.  I was instantly warmed and the sensation made me suddenly aware of the moment I was in the midst of, the things that I don’t always see with the eyes I ought to:  the tips of my daughter’s toes hanging off the edge of the stroller, bopping with delight and a rhythm all her own; my legs propelling me up the sharp incline and the muscles lurking beneath my skin, working to move me; my wild dog, yanking on his leash, his shadow crossing back and forth across the road; the sunlight toasting the doughy flesh of my arms; the breath coursing through my nose and body.  The beauty was everywhere.  So I walked a little more slowly and made it last.

Moments like these make me take pause and enjoy the simple delights around me, but a part of me is afraid that they will all be taken away, in an instant, and all I’ll be left with is the memory.