No, it’s not a gate fence!” I giggled. As we drove to one of our favorite yearly events, the Maryland Renaissance Faire, we passed the time playing Twenty Questions. It had taken a turn towards the silly, with my then four-year-old guessing the animal I was thinking of was a fence. Even though we were stuck in traffic, we were all laughing hysterically. While the Faire itself was great fun, that half-hour playing 20 Questions is what I remember the most.

Over this past winter break, we had a similar experience. We travelled to Williamsburg, Virginia with my parents. The area features a beautiful historical re-enactment area and a Busch Gardens theme park. We arrived there after a drive that was an hour longer than it was supposed to be, only to be stymied by lines far longer than we expected at the theme park. As we tried to tour the historical area the next day, it was pouring rain. After a lunch where we could barely keep the kids in their seats, my husband, the kids and I headed back to the hotel. Failing to get my younger son down for a nap, we retreated to the hotel pool.

That’s where the magic happened. My five-year-old drew on his swim lessons from last summer and became part fish. Even his butt-up-in-the-air swimming was a delight, as he came up with a smile every time. Holding my two-year-old’s hands, I watched him jumped off the side of the pool over and over again. His tiny, giggling voice bounced off the tiles. Moving through the pool, we shared the feeling of the water slipping by our bodies and just being there together.

Those little moments of joy are often what shine bright in my memories. I have tremendous memories of all of the activities we’ve purposefully planned, no doubt. I’d never underestimate the wonder of the places we’ve been, from the joys of riding kids’ rollercoasters to playing in the sand at the beach. But those in-between moments never fail to surprise me with their power.

The only consistent thing about those times is that you can’t predict them. They only occur when you’re tuned in to the moment. They appear when you’re engaged with the people you love – including yourself. The moment you let go of expectations of “what should be” is the moment they become possible.

As a planner who gets far too wrapped up in her own head, I’m continually working on letting go of those expectations. Of embracing what’s right there in front of me. Because I know it’s worth it – every moment.

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