how do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?

As I write this, my daughter, my youngest child, is in the next room dancing with her newborn baby, swinging rhythmically side to side to the tunes on her iPhone—and whispering into her baby girl’s ear,

“When I see your face
There's not a thing that I would change
'Cause you're amazing
Just the way you are

And when you smile
The whole world stops and stares for a while
'Cause girl, you're amazing
Just the way you are”

Sometimes life feels like holding a moonbeam in your hand.

Just the other day, it was me who was swaying side to side, dancing to Bette Midler’s “Beaches” soundtrack on our stereo, and whispering to my youngest child, my daughter,

“Baby mine, don't you cry.
Baby mine, dry your eyes.
Rest your head close to my heart,
Never to part, baby of mine.

Little one, when you play,
Pay no heed what they say.
Let your eyes sparkle and shine,
Never a tear, baby of mine.”