Today I was about the usual business. Rest cut short by radio chatter, I hit it. I thought about how much time I had to get ready, cost me ten minutes. Stumbled into the ritual, nose to the bowl and eyes up at the cereal box. Trance was then disturbed by a thump one floor up, my son leaping into the day. I welcomed him into my day, so happy to see him, to hold him, to sit and read him a story. So many questions, so much to discover. He is happy, at home, with me. I, too soon, discover work is shouting at me, responsibilty is shaking me awake. I drop the book, gently put my boy on the couch. There he sits, now with my wife, hair tossed, eyes soft and happy. My daughter still quietly dreaming upstairs. I hold the cold doorknob and reluctantly respond to the demand, step into "responsabilty". I stop and run back into the arms of my family, one more kiss, one more hug, one more. Five minutes later I am in a different world. I am on my way, responding, reacting, deciding, failing, winning. Life. What am I trying to catch? A moment? A feeling? I choose not to catch but to hold. Hold on to what I have been given to discover the joy of sharing it. Love.