Never a breath you can afford to waste

On our honeymoon on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, 2007

Don’t the hours grow shorter as the days go by
We never get to stop and open our eyes
One minute you’re waiting for the sky to fall
The next you’re dazzled by the beauty of it all -Bruce Cockburn, Lovers in a Dangerous Time


Thirteen years ago I met a Canadian in New York who would become my soul mate. A few days ago we celebrated his newest role in life as a father and at week’s end we will celebrate our role together as a married couple.

It goes without saying that my husband is a great father to our daughters. His homecomings at days’ end are greeted with jumps, smiles and “Daddy!” squeals from the girls. The unconditional love he has for (and is reciprocated by) our daughters is apparent in the hundred dozen pictures I have taken of them.

He encourages them when they are afraid to take that first step. He teaches them table manners and the polite way to ask for something. He gives pointers on knife skills in the kitchen and how to do the back float in the pool. He shows them the joy of a walk in the woods. He makes dad jokes. He is a present and mindful father.


As we celebrate our anniversary this weekend, I’d like to think we have lived a present life together.  But of course, the doldrums of life take a hold of us from time to time. Even if the day-to-day lacks luster, moments of spectacular happen in our lives.

Spectacular days, like your wedding day, make you nostalgic. But instead of reminiscing on days gone by, I’d like to think we are encouraged by this nostalgia. In so far, as we seek out opportunities for more felicitous moments to grab, capture and tuck away for safe keeping until we are old and grey and can reflect back on a life well-lived.


And so this week, my soul mate is six years a father to my daughters and nine years my husband. For me, these once-a-year-holidays are a gentle reminder to immerse yourself in the present. Monikers like father and husband, mother and wife don’t quite suffice as a definition of us but those moments that he and I have lived together do.

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