“Let’s just stop and soak in this moment.” So we do. Victoria and I. At 8 p.m., in the middle of Target, while selecting accessories for my college-bound daughter.  
I wasn’t even surprised by her request to slow down the process and savor the moment. Victoria spent the day “taking mental pictures” (for emphasis, she blinked her eyes every time she said it) as we traveled through Thibodaux tracing routes to school and touring her fall address.
As I humored my 18-year-old, so proud of her realization of this next important step in her life, I did not wonder where the years have gone. No mystery at all. The very thought of the past lifts the lid of the treasure chest of memories, and images gently fill my mind.
The past was spent on the sofa, cuddled up while reading books, watching cartoons or talking. Or in the kitchen, cooking while Victoria sat at her Little Tykes art center in the bay window, creating. In the pool. Running beside her when the training wheels disappeared. On the trampoline. Listening to her giggle or play or plan another adventure with her cousin Tiffani.
Carpools, cheer camps, beach walks and beach talks took up a few years. So did shopping, tasting her latest smoothie inventions and watching her spin little lumps of clay into small vessels on her first pottery wheel. Then her second. Then driving her and Tiffani to pottery classes.
Yes, Victoria managed to fill those years. Covering her notebooks with fabric to make them prettier (third grade), enjoying the snack she called my mom to bring her (a dozen chargrilled oysters) and ice-skating against the flow, on one skate, while I sat on the edge of the rink, horrified.
She even crammed excitement into Easter breaks at the beach. My sister Kay and I were sitting by the pool as we watched Victoria emerge from the building wearing a silver pleather skirt and a huge multi-colored, striped sweater. It was my own fault for letting such a young child pack for herself. “Pretend we don’t know her,” whispered Kay, as we lifted our magazines a little higher over our eyes.
“Aunt Kay! Mama!” she yelled as she ran to us, creating a memory that still causes us to smile.
Then there were the pets she carefully chose and loyally loved. Cayenne, the Australian shepherd. Gucci, the Maltipoo. Oreo, Bacon and Mittens, her cats. And the many fish whose names I won’t spend time trying to remember.
So many, many scenes and segments of conversations race through my mind making it easy to know exactly what happened to those years. They were busy, sometimes exhausting, fun, often hilarious
but never boring. Uncertainties were met, decisions were made, problems were solved and we
somehow survived. We even survived our mistakes, grew a little wiser and learned to lean on God a lot more.
In the midst of all of this remembering, another memory is created. A mental snapshot develops as Victoria and I briefly pause in our day’s dance. We devote a tiny moment of our life to a brief rest before proceeding with the next step. And that’s what we did, right in the middle of Target. We stopped and smiled and added a few more items to the shopping cart.
Yes, I know exactly where the years have gone. The millions of moments have melted into memories and moved into my heart.
And I’m so grateful.    
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com.