The amount of time that you will fit between the crook of my one arm and the palm of my other is really just a blink, isn't it? That I will be able to hold your whole being without thinking about gathering awkward limbs or my own muscles. That I will be able to smell your head and breathe your breath and close my eyes and melt into you in the silence. Hum to you in the silence. Know you in the silence. Bring you peace. Daughter.
With every day the bond between us grows closer and farther. The animal connection evolves. The communication changes and becomes less pure. See. He tells a joke. You nuzzle. He is braver than I am comfortable with. You suddenly sit, crawl, say "da". And then again "da". And he says "duh" and we laugh and cringe. Daughter and son.
And we know that another page has turned without asking our permission. And we cannot wait to see what is on the next. But we also cannot help but look back at that turned page, those turned pages, that are turned, now, forever.