It looked just like this the day you were born, my little one. The blooms, the buds – the world – seemed to be holding its breath, just waiting to burst into full & pulsing color. The day we came home from the hospital, after a long week where you struggled and healed so courageously, our garden and everyone’s garden, it seemed, had blossomed and the world was lit up with petals and tulips.
The sour cherry bush we planted for you is in bloom too, nourished by the placenta we shared.
I knew it would happen like this. I would close my eyes with you to sleep, and then suddenly, somehow, you would be one and a whole year – your baby year – will have sped by. It always happens like this. And my heart is full with love and gratitude for your being here, in every sense of the word. And there is a little rough sandpapery part of my heart that struggles with the speed of it all, and wishes, wishes you might slow down a little. My last baby. The last firsts.
Oh, my son, I love you forever. Thank you for being here and teaching us so much in such a short time. And happy birthday.