Prompt: Is there an age or year of your life you would re-live?

The Polaroid picture above was taken in April, 1979. That’s my husband, Greg, holding our newborn first child, daughter Carly Anne. If I could re-live any year of my life, it would be the year starting that day.

I’d already suffered one miscarriage, so I was very aware what a miracle it was that a child was born whole and healthy. I was overcome with joy and love. Carly was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.

I was blessed that I could be a stay-at-home mom. Carly and I spent every minute of every day together. I watched her with fascination.

I’d heard other young mothers say they couldn’t wait to go back to work — they were so bored taking care of a baby all day.

Not me.

I remember that year being full of magic. How quickly Carly went from a helpless, squirrelly infant to a cognizant being, growing intellectually and physically by leaps and bounds every day. I remember drilling Greg’s mom about when he achieved significant milestones. When was his first smile? How old was he when he said, “Mama,” or when he rolled over for the first time? She didn’t know. How was that possible? (In her defense, now that I’m a little past her age, I have no recollection whatsoever of when any of my children did those things.)

I think Carly’s first year was the best year of my life. Every day was an adventure. Every day I was full of gratitude. The closest I can get to that wonderful time is when I am together with any of our grandchildren. It’s like deja vu, but better.