When my son was born and I realised I was a mum.

Having fun with my sisters back in the day. I miss playing cards and fighting over crabs with them every weekend.

January 15, 1991. Walking up Congress Avenue in Austin, with thousands of others, to see Mom sworn in as governor of Texas.

Genuinely – and my wife, Lee, knows this – dancing with Kevin Clifton on Strictly.

My mother. She’s 85 and rather than diminishing with age, she keeps surprising and growing more marvelous. She finds fun when most are jaded, wonder when most are cynical, and is curious when most are bored. She gave me life and continues to show me how to live it daily. And I know that everyone who meets her thinks the same.

At the right time, and like my father—utterly without fear or pain, at home, with all whom I love. It was his last lesson as a parent to me.

In my bed, a hot-water bottle on my tummy, the windows are open, reading a book that I’m already into, chocolate at hand, all with the knowledge that everyone I love and know is happy.

My distractibility, diminishing memory, and capacity for sustained concentration. My English master once said I had the brain of a butterfly. I feel that 40 years later, I’ve evolved into Dory from Finding Nemo.

The loss of anything, be it a loved one or a faculty—my sight, hearing, or mind.