India, July 18 -- Earlier this week, a friend sent me a photograph that felt like it was from a different life.

It was taken about a decade ago, by a beach where my daughter, wife and their friends once spent time in the evenings. Back then, this was part of our routine. I would head there after work. My daughter would run around until she was exhausted. Then we'd get some ice-cream or a snack. And the day would inevitably end with a story I made up on the fly.

Looking at that photograph, I found myself wondering: When did those rituals stop?

I didn't tell her one evening that that was the last funny story I would cook up on the fly. My daughter didn't wake up one morning and announce she was done with running in the sand. I don't reme...