It was a rare moment: The Kid sleeping soundly in his swing, leaving me with an uncertain number of minutes to myself, and no urgent tasks to be completed. My brain instantly switched into Strategize mode, considering the second-tier chores on the list, wondering if I had time to attack any of them. Then Someone told me to just be still. Be still, and Just Look. Look ahead at the face before me, this infant that dominates our days, that fills every moment with his need, and behold him in a moment of peace. Look at him and love him and weigh this moment down with gratitude, because there will be a time when I will look back and not believe how quickly it all went by. So I pulled up a patch of couch and sat and stared. And his peace became mine, and love rather than strategy filled the room.

Leap Day was a big deal this year, at least on all the shows we DVR and watch later in pieces, and I considered what it meant to have that extra twenty-four hours at my disposal. I always feel in want of time, and that I mismanage the moments I do have, and I wondered at both the gift and responsibility bestowed with an extra day. Our leap day coincided with a breakdown of the water heater, so I didn’t waste any extra time in the shower, so there was that. But after those few moments of being still, I realized that sometimes, my quest to constantly be filling time actually ends in my killing time. Making time come alive? That often only happens when I slow down long enough to do what the world would call “nothing”: staring moments straight in the face and seeing, for once, all that I have.