Years ago we poured some concrete to extend the back of our carport.

Our daughter was about five years old when she left this mark for us to find periodically as time went by. We did some cleaning today, and under the leaves of castoff years, her little hand print revealed itself and the memories it held.

Soon, we’ll leave this house, and future owners will wonder who made this mark. They won’t know how sweet a child she was, but they’ll guess she must have been because her mom and dad wanted a tiny memory made permanent for as long as it could last.

I think about leaving a mark.

I’ve left my heart behind in many places, books especially, some that I’ve written and some that I’ve read.

What mark do I leave these days? Perhaps many I don’t realize, but one I do deliberately is writing books. And I hope in reading them, you find I left a moment of enjoyment or escape right when you needed it, a mark you carry around for a few minutes, might I wish days, after putting the book down.

I know that every book I write, lives inside me for months breathing and staring wide-eyed at the world it is going to join.

What mark have you left that you hope others note and take a moment to wonder about? I’d love to hear from you.