Because every single day, my ten-year-old son grabs my hand as we walk to the car from his classroom. He does it unselfconsciously, and beams at me with love.

Because my youngest, at seven, still clambers up in my lap and presses her nose against my neck while I hug her.

Because my oldest, at eleven, beams when I pick her up at school, and talks my ear off about her friends, and their silly conversations, and hasn't quite caught on that I'm a raging dork.

Because I want to remember this, even as the days slip by, even as I wish the hours of the day away.

Because writing it down helps me realize how truly lovely they are, and how lucky I am.

Because sometimes I need that.