When I look back, it isn’t the big moments that rise first.
It’s the small hands.
The weight of a child asleep against my chest.
The way time softens when you are watching someone you love grow.
Life keeps bringing them to me — first as babies, then as children, then, almost without warning, as adults. I have stood close enough to see the changes happen. To know the cuddles that melt into you. To receive wet kisses from little ones who love without restraint, who give everything they have without holding back. To feel small, trusting hands slip into mine. To skip together. To laugh together. And quietly, almost without noticing, to watch them grow up.
To notice when chubby fingers become steady hands. When questions become opinions. When laughter deepens and silences begin to carry meaning. Generation after generation, unfolding in front of me.
Other things fade away. The things we are told matters — work, money, houses, holidays, appearances, achievements. All of it falls silent in the presence of these moments. None of those things reach me the way a child leaning in close does. None of them stay with me the way love does.
It doesn’t end when they stop being little. In many ways, it grows richer. It changes shape.
A shared cuppa.
A conversation that drifts through life’s ups and downs.
The privilege of being trusted with their stories.
Being allowed to still belong in their world.
The quiet pride that brings tears before I even realise they’re there.
These are the things I carry with me. Not accomplishments or possessions, but memories and moments layered gently over time. A lifetime of them, gathered softly, stored away like precious keepsakes. My own treasure chest — filled with love, connection, belonging — gathered across generations.
If all of this were taken from me, I would feel poor beyond words, no matter what else remained. Because this is where my richness lives. In family. In love passed hand to hand, heart to heart, across time.
Everything else is just noise.
Apples of Gold 
Thank You for conveying such genuine sentiment. My name is Zete Logan and I have been developing a concept that I call “Expressive Nurturing.” Every day I see the effects of those, like myself, that never add a personal, honest and trusting connection with another person. Expressive Nurturing is how to regain what was lost in us to feel love and affection. If you are interested in my latest article on Expressive Nurturing, please let me know. I would like to know your thoughts and offer hope to others through your words. ^-^ Zete
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Thank you, Zete, for your thoughtful and heartfelt message. The idea of expressive, nurturing connection speaks to me — especially the way love and trust are learned and carried through lived relationships. I’d be happy to read your article and reflect on it. Thank you for reaching out and for the work you’re doing to offer hope and connection. ps. May I ask what the heading of the article is that you’re referring to?
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Beautiful…
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Thank you!!
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My article on Expressive Nurturing is on my blog page ideal-self.com.
As a child, I read a book titled Apples of Gold and another with Silver in the title.
Like them, your writings have inspired me to look back fondly on what it meant to be a child with such innocent imagination.
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Thank you for clarifying — I found the article. This is deeply thought-provoking and beautifully expressed, and it speaks with so much compassion. I love the way you frame nurturing as something we are allowed to learn later in life, not just something we either received or missed. The reminder that nurturing ourselves is not selfish but essential for growth feels deeply true. I especially loved the idea that it’s never too late to tend the soil again. The plant metaphor is powerful — gentle, honest, and hopeful — and the idea that we can regenerate, even after neglect, feels grounding. Thank you for offering such a thoughtful, life-giving perspective and for putting into words something many of us feel but struggle to name.
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What a lovely reflection. I’m honoured that my writing brought you back to that connection with childhood imagination and those early stories that quietly shape how we see the world.
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A friend sent me this after reading my comment (sorry I wrote as anonymous, i am still learning how all this works)
Jo Petty Series: Apples of Gold, Wings of Silver, Treasures of Silver
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Oh thank you for sharing this — and no need to apologise at all. I love learning about the stories that stay with us.
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