Chances are … she’ll remember your cool hands bringing her comfort in the night … not your hot temper that sometimes got the best of you. Chances are … he’ll remember the way your worn pajamas gathered him up in the morning … not the puffiness of your eyes or the exhaustion in your voice. Chances are … she’ll remember the new beginnings you offered when she messed up … not the shabby, old couch and perpetual dust bunnies. Chances are … he’ll remember the way your eyes shined as he stood over his birthday cake … not whether the confection came from your kitchen or the store. Chances are … she’ll remember the gift of your hand and your patience as she walked the curb … not the gifts the other kids got that she didn’t. Chances are … he’ll remember the sound of your laughter … not your embarrassing singing voice and horrible rhythm. Chances are … she’ll remember the yeses you gave to feeding strays and jumping in puddles … not the no’s to sugar donuts and pet snakes. Chances are … he’ll remember how you showed up. Chances are … she’ll remember how you’d say, “I love you,” out of the blue. Chances are … she’ll remember how her pain was your pain. Chances are … you’re better at this gig than you think you are. Chances are … you’re pretty darn amazing in the eyes of your child. Chances are … you could take a little pressure off yourself and things would be okay. Because someone loves to hear your laugh. And chances are, that’s what she’ll remember most. © Rachel Macy Stafford 2014