Where can we store these memories?
What card catalogue can we access to pull each moment back and hold it in our hands, shifting it in the light, inspecting it with eyes wrinkled from experience?
I want to go back to when they were each brand new. And to when they each crawled, padded butts skyward. I want to go back to the first words that I have forgotten. To the weight of smaller bodies with arms around my neck. I want to go back to the first time I smelled their hair straight from the ocean. I want to see their tear-streaked faces turn to smile upon seeing me at the doorway.
But this is all I have. This record of the way light hit chemicals and was then transferred to pixel.
It is a cold substitute for the feeling of soft, padded toes, or the way it feels to pull my fingers through their sun-streaked, tangled hair.
Here they are, running through the woods. Here they are walking along the water's edge.
Here they are during the era of the fedora. Upon waking from a nap that will cease to exist soon enough. Here they are while they can still be held.
These are not enough.
These are all I have.