Her toes were sticking out of her sock. There was a big hole at the end, the perfect size to fit two of her toes. My daughters feet were lazily resting on the dash board of our van as we drove home to Geneva from a weekend in Zürich.
We were sitting shoulder to shoulder, both with our head phones on. Me listening to classical music, she watching her series, my fiancé in quiet contemplation driving. I gazed out the window watching the swiss villages zip by, the Alps looming in the distance. The car ride was punctuated by her laughter and the wiggling of her toes out the end of her sock. I put my head on her shoulder, she rested her head on mine. I breathed in long and exhaled ever so slowly. The perfection of the moment was not lost to me.
I savored every bit of that car ride.
Life is made up of these moments. They come in every shape and size. Even in the form of a hole-y sock worn by a giggling teenager.
Life is happening now.