As Ruth and I were getting ready for Chloe Jane’s first birthday, I couldn’t help but reflect on our first year with her. The year seemed to pass by so quickly. I took thousands of photographs to try to freeze the moments and make them last before they slipped past to the next one. I captured as many moments as I could so I could see them on a wall or in a book or on a computer whenever I wanted. Despite the many photographs, however, what I remember best from this past year are not the moments I froze with my camera, but the little moments that I missed or simply could not capture with my camera. I hold on to these little memories the way one holds on to a photograph and remembers the moment it was taken.  Together, these loosely connected moments dot the canvas of my memory and create a more lasting picture than I could ever take with a shutter and lens.

A message to my daughter upon her turning one year

I remember . . .

. . . singing “Summertime” at 2:00 am while you slept on my shoulder . . . you falling asleep on my chest when you were two weeks old. . . our rushing you to the hospital because you wouldn’t stop crying only to have you fall peacefully asleep on the way. . . when you used to sleep every night in a small co-sleeper attached to our bed. . . you pulling my CDs off the shelf one at a time . . . again and again and again . . . you pointing outside the window at the birds on the feeder. . . . you storing a mouthful of chicken during a BBQ picnic but not swallowing it . . . you reaching up to feel the condensation on my soft drink or beer anytime I held you while taking a drink. . . you chasing Mojo to the ends of the house while screaming with delight . . . and he would sometimes let you catch him. . . you shaking with excitement when I got home from work. . . you falling asleep in an inflatable ‘Nessie floating in the calm Caribbean sea. . . you making raspberry noises in your car seat while we drove. . . when swaddling was the only thing I could do to calm your crying . . . and it worked every time. . . sharing our fish entrees with you wherever we ate in Grand Cayman. . . dressing you like a pumpkin before Halloween and then dressing you as a teddy bear for trick or treating. . . you reaching into your stocking at Christmas and finding as much joy in the wrapping paper as the gifts you received . . . taking you out to restaurants in a car seat when you were an infant . . . fleeing from Ted’s Montana Grill because you were there too late, for too long and was too tired to stop crying. . . entertaining you with toys and food while we ate out at restaurants once you fit in a high chair. . . going to picnics in the park with you, your Mom and MacDuff . . . and you yelling at Mac when you thought he wandered off too far; he came obediently back to check on you . . . your Mom sending photos to me on my phone while you and her spent time at the Atlanta Botanical Garden . . . and wishing I was there, too. . . you and your mother meeting me at lunch for work . . . and you throwing up on my suit while I waited on a jury. . . you trying out your first chocolate Easter bunny. . . you trying on christening gowns at Phipps to wear for your baptism. . . you looking up with furrowed brow at the priest as he poured water on your head when you were baptized . . you crawling to my feet and reaching your arms upward for me to pick you up. . . you climbing into MacDuff’s bed while he was sleeping and patting him on his side. . . you cringing and closing your eyes when MacDuff came close enough to lick your face. . . you patting your mother while you nursed. . . you falling asleep in the afternoons with your mother. . . after your first couple weeks, you never again took a bottle or a pacifier. . . you scooting across the hardwood floors on your chest before you mastered crawling and making a pretty good roomba . . . letting you turn the pages as I read to you. . . you pointing to the pink flowers of the Crepe Myrtles when we strolled around the neighborhood. . . the tears . . . mostly yours, but sometimes mine. . . when you believed there was no delicacy better than a Cheerio (perhaps there still is none). . . you trying to put your toys into MacDuff’s mouth. . . watching you marvel at the kangaroos at the zoo. . . the way you like to pinch our skin while you’re being held. . . you could always distinguish toys from things you weren’t supposed to play with . . . you preferred the latter . . . . you falling asleep with a French fry sticking out of your mouth at the beachside restaurant in Grand Cayman . . . I removed it. . . you pressing “copy” on my printer and pulling the paper as it came out of the printer again and again. . . you always reaching for anything within or just beyond arms reach. . . that sometimes petting Mojo was the only thing that made you stop crying. . . you carrying around Goldilocks and the 3 Bears finger puppets wherever you went. . . you playing with Griz in your crib when you were supposed to be napping. . . your delight in watching me spin my wedding ring on the floor while you tried to catch it . . . and then handing back to me to do it again. . . you crawling as fast as you can to hide in my lap when your Mom was chasing you. . . following close behind you so you wouldn’t fall as you climbed straight up the spiral stairs. . . walking up and down the airplane aisle on the way to Grand Cayman until you quieted down and fell asleep. . . you grabbing condiments off the shelves while grocery shopping. . . you drinking a chocolate malt and a strawberry malt right out of the straw (your mother and I helped you finish them) . . . your joy in eating cookies—even whole wheat fig newtons . . . you always pulling my glasses off of my face . . . and then showing your Mom what you did. . . your fascination with a flashlight and shining it around the room. . . bringing you into our room in the mornings and you climbing all over us laughing and smiling. . . that you never let us sleep past 7:30 am no matter how late we were up the night before . . . your first bath, your first smile, your first giggle, your first tooth, your first time trying solid food, your first consonant sound, your first word, your first practical joke, your first time playing on a beach, your first time in the ocean

Watch closely and do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live.
Deut 4:9 (NIV)

Happy Birthday, Chloe Jane.  Love, Dad.

Click here to see a Photoshow slideshow of Chloe Jane’s birthday party.

Click here to see a gallery of photos from the birthday party.