There she was
a bundle of joy
swaddled in happiness.
The light was soft after an exhausting night.
The room flowing with many people that care
so much
for a new creature of this world.
Why the tears came,
I wasn't entirely sure.
They stung my eyes with joy
and sadness.
It was awakening
and drowsy.
Why was there sorrow when this new life brings nothing but joy?
I did not know.
I think it's something you learn on your own.
When your own tiny happiness latches on to you,
and looks at you for the first time
stopping time in its tracks for
just one moment.
But I knew this baby,
this child of light,
this tiny human
that wasn't even mine,
would mean more to me than any other.
Little Clair.
Sweet Clair de Lune.
Sitting outside on a grey cushion,
the soft tingle of her song falling from the cushion of my headphones
and into my ears,
was delightful.
I wish I could've seen her come,
tumble from the small catacomb
from where she lived for nine months.
But she is here,
and wishing for things that are past is
like stealing pennies from a fountain.
You get nothing from wishes that are not your own.
She is lovely.
Tiny.
Fragile.
Cold.
Beautiful.
My little St. Clair.
My arms ache to hold her
but I already feel blessed beyond reason to see her mother
lose the girl, the childish spirit that was once inside of her
and all at once
see a mother.
The girl she was is gone.
All at once she is a mother.
She latches on perfectly,
the tiny one,
and watch how suddenly the world,
her world, has begun.
Watch how her glittering eyes will open more every day
and watch how her family,
her father,
her mother,
will never let go, too.
Just watch.
This world will teach you more than you will teach it.
Of that I am certain.
-k.p.b.
