When I’m old, I hope I remeber….

The way my husband holds Morgan’s hands in his, walking across the parking lot, with each finger intertwined.

The way Bailey climbed in between my mom and I on the couch tonight, took one of each of our hands and made it where all three of us were holding hands.

My mom touching my belly, telling her grandson bedtime stories; kissing him and telling him goodnight.

Morgan climbing up into Bailey’s bed at night, saying, I think I’ll just sleep with sissy, so she’s not scared.

My girls, giggling and whispering for twenty minutes, before they finally fall asleep.

My friends calling my mom a cheat at Pictonary, telling her that no one can be that good.

My husband, telling me that if this baby is a girl, he wouldn’t really mind. And if it’s not, we should have one more.

The smell of home made food; the love of family; and the laughter of friends, I hope I always remember it all.