A trick of my mind, for a moment, and it is another child, or two, or three, sitting in the sink, splashing, chatting. Peering out the window at the grey day, the birds blowing by, little wonderous eyes. I pour water, I wash, I bathe. Slippery toes between my fingers, a toothy beaming smile. I hold this moment, pressing it to my heart. So I won't forget.
Because we do forget. The pressed flowers of these moments do fade. No matter how tenderly, or tightly we hold them. They slip away, they grow, become these other lovely beings, shooting stars on their own path away from me.
But for now I will savour it and feel blessed and prepare to let go.