The day had been humid, hot, and long. Warm skin tingled in the grasp of the cool night air. A million stars beckoned to my imagination. All senses acutely alive, I listened for the sounds of the night and heard the laughter of neighborhood youngsters; voices kindred to those of my children so many years ago.

For just a moment, I wished the nostalgic wish that occasionally crosses every grandma’s mind. I wished that I could go back in time and hear the youthful voices of my children and their friends one more time.

“More time,” I thought. “What would you do if you could have more time?” Of course, I don’t know. I can only hope that I would spend it more wisely than I did before. I hope that—

• I would spend more time provoking their laughter and less time stifling their tears;
• More time praising their virtues and less time picking at their faults;
• More time enjoying their present and less time fretting about their future.

For the truth is, we don’t get to keep them forever. In fact, sometimes we don’t get to keep them at all.