Just last week I fretted for an hour about a favorite earring I had selected in the morning but discovered in the evening I had lost. Frustration bedeviled my moods. Until I walked into a park and saw a little girl. She was about two or three years old, sable hair, healthy, baby fine. Her sound returned me to sweet hours in a cloistered tent upon a wooden beach. Her laughter was the restless air and the cooling mountain stream along the rocky trail. Her doting parents will never find the words to show the love and joy the three of them were feeling in that accidentally observed moment, no matter if a telephone recorded every frame. The delicacy of loving bliss cannot be digitized, uploaded. It comes and goes as does the sunlight which etched softness on my heart.