I realized today that it's been several months since S has deigned to hold my hand in public. He used to voluntarily hold my hand, even on the way to school, just reach out nonchalantly and link himself to me for the walk home. Sometimes there would even be a skiphop as he trotted along next to me, matching his boy-sized strides to my mom-sized ones.

I wish I would have known the moment of the last one. I would have savored it more, looked down on the sun shining on that cute swirl of hair at the crown of his head, maybe squeezed his hand to punctuate that last hand-to-hand that would launch him into middle childhood. But then I would have cried and nobody wants that.

"...the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three on them sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4, and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in a hurry to get on to the next things: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less" (Anna Quindlen).

So savor, sieze the day.