*For my baby Jane, in celebrating 7 months of life. ❤️
We had a bath, you and I.
And you know?
That may be the sweetest place I have ever been.
Your face, as pure as the droplets of water that speckle it, tilts back to gaze at me.
And I gaze at you.
You are the creamiest white.
Your face, and down along each roll of your arm,
across your belly and around your legs,
to the tip of your tiniest toe,
you, my dear, are the color of milk.
Your eyes lock with mine.
You smile with joy and kick the water.
It splashes the two of us, but neither one turns to look.
How can I?
Your eyes are like puddles of ocean water,
a deep, bottomless blue,
as if you could look and look
and not see all there is to see.
Your pink rosy lips form a side-lying oval
as your tongue curves up to join in the excitement.
And the colors trigger my heart to send a request to my mind: Remember this.
My eyes take a moment to blink,
like the click of a camera.
Did I get it?
Can my mind file this for safe-keeping forever?
Surely you will grow.
Most likely, faster than I have,
and I was but a child only a moment ago.
As if sensing my hopeless desire to control time,
you splash again and water splatters.
Your honey-tipped eyelashes have caught a drop,
wet and frayed out as they are.
They look like the palm trees in Florida, excited and undeterrable.
You win, my love.
I know in far away tomorrows I will ache.
Perhaps on a rainy day when the small droplets of water remind me of the way they splashed your face,
or at the ocean’s edge if I stand there looking deep enough.
I will remember you, us,
as we are in this moment.
And I will long for it back.
The memory will come with both joy and sorrow.
But right now, sweet child of mine,
you have chosen well and I can’t help but follow.
Joy it is, as we savor the present sweetness,
these moments of milk and honey.