For more days spent lying faceup on blades of green grass, pointing out ships and castles in the puffs of white clouds.
For more afternoons where little and big legs alike trekking through the neighborhood exploring.
For more lazy morings welcomed by floating in cool Michigan freshwater, digging toes deep into grainy sand.
And for more dusks spent counting fireflies from the porch instead of sheep from bed.
So we play long, hard.
We laugh loudly, in abandon.
We soak in the extra sunlight long-streaking through longer days.
I simultaneously lose and gain time.
As the days boast extra warmth, extra light, I'm constantly transfering minutes spent thinking about life to plainly living.
And sometimes I need that -- to be so immersed in living that words from the day don't find a home in black print on a white page -- but rather, they find a home in the deep layers of my memory, firmly etched onto the walls of my mind.