I’m not running behind, but I feel like I’m late for something.

As editor, there’s always something to do - a phone call to make, an e-mail to reply to or send, a story for me to stay one step ahead of or a cause to get behind. I get dressed and gather my things - my camera bag, cell phone, iPod. The sun is shining in through the big picture window of our new house, illuminating the whole room in beautiful pale yellow, making the edges of my little girl’s hair glow red and blond as she constructs yet another animal rescue center with her blocks and menagerie of animals.

I give her a kiss on the top of her head. She looks up at me with those big, blue 2-year-old eyes, the ones that make me melt.

“You build animal rescue center with me, dada,” she says sweetly.

I’m already corralling Finn, who has stopped mid-crawl to turn and see what’s going on with inquisitive eyes. I give him a kiss on the top of his bald head and break the news.

“Not now, honey. Daddy’s got to go to work,” I say it gently and matter-of-factly.

She sulks her head in dejection.

“Daddy’s got to go to work. No, daddy. No.”

I can almost hear her little heart breaking.

I try to reassure her.

“I’ll be back soon, and we can build an animal rescue center then.”

This is not acceptable, but she tries hard to make it work.

“Oh, all right,” she says and goes back to building but slower.

I leave them with my wife and head out, the screen door shutting loudly, letting out almost a sad sigh as it closes sharply. I hop down the concrete steps in the bright sunlight and squash the guilt and minor heart ache welling in my throat. There’s 19 steps between the stairs and the gate give or take a few. That’s 19 steps I have to swallow my guilt; 19 steps to let it go before I put my hand on the gate or I’d never open it.

Life stinks. Life is unbelievably amazing.