An ordinary afternoon. Cloudless, the sun rays hit the window of my car. Climbing temperatures in the desert mean that spring is ending and that one hundred plus degree days are preparing for arrival. I picked up my little girl from school and headed to the grocery store to buy a few items for dinner. As I slammed my car door shut, I extended my arm and grabbed my daughter’s hand. We walked toward the grocery story and she spotted the yellow and red buggy  attached to the grocery cart.

“Momma, can I ride in the yellow car? Please, Momma, can I?” Her voice drowned the car traffic around us.

“Um, I don’t know. Are you certain you will fit in it? It is hard for Momma to move the cart because it is so big.” In the past I’ve discouraged her from scooting into the colorful buggy because it adds almost twenty additional minutes to my grocery shopping time.

Before I had a chance to think about it, my daughter climbed into the seat.

“Look, Momma. I fit. I still fit into the car.” With a wide grin on her face, her excitement set the tempo for the remainder of our grocery excursion.

I tried to steer the metal contraption in and around the various aisles without bumping into the various displays. At one point, an older woman with brunette highlights in her hair, helped push one of the stands from our path. Grateful for her assistance, I thanked her. She said, “No problem. Your little girl is having such a good time.”

This ordinary errand to the grocery store lingered in my mind during the evening. It is all moving so fast. In another six years, my daughter will be a teenager. She will not hold my hand and will definitely not fit into the grocery buggy at thirteen. I am struck by how many moments will never happen again. This picture of her with her long limbs extending out, her smile, and her knees touching the steering wheel is one of those moments. I made it a point to pull out my phone to snap this picture because I want to remember this little girl’s excitement and the significance of a simple errand.