I sat at the kitchen table yesterday afternoon looking out upon the vast emptiness of the field behind our home, I often do this when there is a lot on my mind. I had finished feeding the baby his lunch a half hour or so earlier and he was restless yet tired. His morning nap was a short intermission from his otherwise bustling self. He lounged comfortably on my lap off and on while I gazed outward through the dank glass door, him occasionally reaching up with his tiny perfect hand to touch my face. His tender caress on my skin soothing and I could sense his inquisitiveness. He has been very clingy lately and is not happy unless he is being held, so I hold him, I rock and sing to him. He actually does not mind my singing but rather enjoys it, I give him another four months before he takes cover and runs from my vocal warbling. A light flurry of snow began to fall and it was magical. I am so looking forward to Christmas morning this year, whether it's due to this small babe who eventually found repose in my arms, his slumber there within them comforting to me or due to other reasons. I look at him and Mikenna and I see love, I see all that is good and I rejoice in the small miracles and celebrate the life we have.
