His body from the top of his head to the curve if his little bottom are the length of my forearm. He rests there now, so relaxed I can hear him breathing but feel no movement.
His eye lashes rest on his cheeks, and there is a little drop of droll coming from the corner of his mouth.
Skin so soft, nothing compares; to think, someday those, the softest of cheeks, will grow whiskers, the upper lip a mustache.
These are the moments that stop me in my tracks, this chance to sit here and hold this little piece of heaven.
Today as I rocked him after the bottle, with a full tummy and grinning from ear to ear I prayed for God to always let me remember these days, to always see this little face in my mind’s eye when it does have whiskers and maybe a mustache.
Oh, to remember……..
