I don't know where to begin
when I think about love in the little things, so much has happened in our family that we can't go back,
I think of life lived and what it means now:
of brushing her hair, of making dinner, of driving to lessons, of smiles shared,
of movies watched and books read, of jokes with friends, of heart-to-heart talks,
of wanting time to stop freeze-frame like a kodachrome moment, so we say, 'yes, that was love in the little things', but you're out the door and our wishes don't add up to the moments slipping by,
then I find a trinket left behind or a dirty sock, and you still need love like a two-year-old, and it all becomes perfectly clear, that it all adds up to love in the little things.