I'm like a junkie. I'm obsessed. Is he eating? Sleeping? Learning any tricks? How much is he awake every hour? Has he cried much? Did he, has he, is he, will he...?
I worked today and went to a volunteer job after work-a job I do every year, and really love. The whole time I was wondering if there was any way I could get to the hospital tonight. At a point, I looked at my watch, called my Younger Daughter, and asked, "Do you have any visitors?" They didn't. "Is it ok if we come?" "That would be great!" was her boyfriend's response.
I left downtown, picked up The Attorney, and off we cruised, out the highway, over the bumps, through the lights until we were there. THERE. Where he is. Where my wonderful daughter and her partner are. It felt safe and sweet and warm. He's darling. And he delights me.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Julian, you wonder child, you darling boy. I stuff my nose deep in your neck and take a long, deep, breath in. You smell sweet and new and beautiful, and I am drawn back to my own days as the mother of an infant. Yet now, somehow, miraculously, you are differently dear. Not more dear, or less...just different. I wish for you, my sweetest boy, the finest pleasures life has to offer: opera, jungle gyms, basketball and Renoir. I wish for rain puddles and belly laughs, warm and fuzzy slippers and wrinkled hands to hold you. I wish you song birds and cherry trees and the smell of your favorite cake in my oven. I have great plans for you, my little love-plans of camping and road trips and sleepovers where we read under the covers with flashlights. Come with me, my dearest angel-we'll dance in the moonlight and laugh at the wind. The world is ours. The memories start now.