I folded a tiny pair of leggings that no longer fit my daughter and couldn’t throw them away

Dear Delyara, I know they need to go. That’s not the issue. The issue is that they fit her once. That they belonged to a version of motherhood where the body in my arms was lighter and warmer and easier to keep close. That they carry time in their fabric. That they make me feel the ridiculous impossible thing all mothers feel eventually — wanting your child to grow and wanting to keep every vanished version too. I put them back in the drawer. That is not sensible. It is true.