small moments

My son's small, two year old, hand grasps tightly onto my finger on my left side and my three year old daughter follows closely, on my right side. The sun is shining, the snow is melting and spring is in the air. As we round the corner to where the sidewalk meets the walking trail, a squeal of delight escapes my sons mouth as he catches a glimpse of the neighborhood pond. His tiny hand releases his grasp and he takes off running down the path with his sister by his side.
Little yellow rubber boots stop to jump in the melting snow puddles. Bare hands splash in the icy cold, trickles of water that flow in all directions along the path. Giggles and smiles warm my heart.


I am struck with a sudden wish to just slow down time; a desire to tell my children not to grow up so fast. It is so strong that it takes me a minute to catch my breath and carry on running after them.