This journey, and those on it, are different now. Some tenuously, some hopefully, some nervously, some watchfully, some just plain stoned in love.
This baby. This beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy. With the deep dimple in his right cheek, his Gerber curls on the top of his head, his two teeth that he bites his fingers with, his bright blue eyes, his squawking efforts to converse, his alabaster skin, his own sweet smell, his utterly still gaze when I sing him Yellow Submarine. I’ve wondered for years what her drawing meant…it was a prayer to the future. Right now, in this moment, I can believe in anything.