**Photo from Ojai, CA Bike Trail**
I still remember that train ride—its steady clack-clack rhythm, the way the sunlight painted shifting patterns across the seats, and especially how one of my daughters passed through the doorway just as I glanced up. The moment lasted only seconds, yet it felt suspended in time, etched into my mind like a secret pressed between the pages of a dusty book. I managed to snap a photograph, though that image now eludes me; it’s lost somewhere in the labyrinth of life’s details, waiting to be rediscovered.
Reflecting on that day in Ojai, 2013, I can still sense the mix of awe and apprehension I felt. My daughters were on the precipice of new chapters—full of possibility, brimming with their own dreams. In those days, I often found myself marveling at the inexorable passage of time. One moment they were small enough to lift into my arms, and the next they were forging their own paths, brimming with independence. Watching them grow feels like chasing a phantom: each time I think I can capture that beautiful instant, it slips away, leaving only the faint imprint of a memory.
The poem I wrote—“My Dear Daughters. One day when you look back (Ojai. 2013.)”—emerged from the ache of that realization. It’s a humble attempt to grapple with the ephemeral nature of seeing them flourish, and the bittersweet knowledge that no matter how deeply I might wish to know their inner worlds, they are forever evolving, striding into a future I can only glimpse. I tried to capture the way love can outstretch the limits of time, how it can persist through the silences and separations life sometimes imposes.
Even now, as I revisit those words, I sense how much remained unspoken: the hope that they will one day see me not merely as a parent, but as another human being, complex in my own right, and capable of longing for the closeness that once was. Time and circumstances can unravel the bonds we thought were unbreakable, but I hold on to a steadfast faith that love, in its quiet and resilient way, endures. It transcends misunderstandings and the distances that form between hearts.
When I finally relocate that lost photograph—however many years from now—it will stand as a quiet testimony to a fleeting yet beautiful instant: the shift of sunlight, the hush of a train corridor, and the precious reminder that each daughter is her own universe, orbiting forward into tomorrows unknown. And in the moment that I hold that photograph again, I will be reminded that, although I cannot catch them in the present, I still stand in loving witness to their unfolding future, with the hope that one day, when they look back, they might see me—and know how deeply they were, and are loved.
```
I cannot know your deepest soul
nor your inner world
I see you, but for a moment,
as you grow and change before me
Could I but reach that second,
where you once were
To know your unique truth,
but alas, you are already gone.
And so I chase after you
and grasp at empty air
Where you once stood
I catch only the shadow of your last step
{because you belong to the future}
I will never catch you darling,
but will catch only a glimpse
--- from time to time ---
I am the past looking at you,
as your eyes gaze at tomorrow.
Occasionally, when you look back, I see you,
but you are a mystery to me
I am a mystery to you too, a parent,
but a soul you will hardly know
Until one day, when I am gone
and you look back,
and reach for me --- as I reach for you now.
In that moment, just know,
that our love is forever.
```
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