small (but actually endlessly large) joys
Eyes filling with tears as I look down at him and heart fills the impossible glory of this beautiful child born of my body, weighty in my arms.
The thrilling joy of seeing the man I love with our boy in his arms, heading down the well-worn trail to the beach at the camp, of seeing them in the rocking chair, seeing them cudding in bed, seeing them in front of the bonfire...
The pleasure of a full night of sleep, when at 7 weeks, James only needed one mid-night feeding.
Trails near our home explored hand-in-hand with little love carried next to my heart.
Endless hours studying his little face, his features, his toes, his fingers, his sounds.
Return to former joys like cooking and baking and counseling and be-friending, with a sidekick along for the ride.
Kissing his scalp, knowing his scent.
The thrilling joy of seeing the man I love with our boy in his arms, heading down the well-worn trail to the beach at the camp, of seeing them in the rocking chair, seeing them cudding in bed, seeing them in front of the bonfire...
The pleasure of a full night of sleep, when at 7 weeks, James only needed one mid-night feeding.
Trails near our home explored hand-in-hand with little love carried next to my heart.
Endless hours studying his little face, his features, his toes, his fingers, his sounds.
Return to former joys like cooking and baking and counseling and be-friending, with a sidekick along for the ride.
Kissing his scalp, knowing his scent.
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