I don't know where to begin when I think about love in the little things; so much has happened that we can't go back.
Children and Emma, 1991
I think of life lived and what it means now: of brushing hair, making dinner, driving to lessons, of smiles shared.
I think of movies watched and books read, of jokes with friends, of heart-to-heart talks.
I think of wanting time to stop freeze-frame like a kodachrome moment, so we can stop and say, 'yes, that was it - that was defiinitely love in the little things', but you're out the door in a zip-flash and our wishes don't add up to all those moments slipping by.
Then I find a broken trinket left behind or a dirty sock and you come roaring in the door, and you still need love like a two-year-old, and it all becomes perfectly clear, that it all just adds up to love in the little things.