Every one is asleep. My boy is on my left side softly cooing with his exhalations. Things are happening in daily life. Mom and Dad are visiting, things are breaking, food, aches, pains, what have you, but at this page, right now, anything lacking richness, nutrients, organisms, enzymes, or cooing baby breath falls away. Night sky emerges - cold air and snow fall. It's calling me outside, while naked, soft skin and a warm fire keeps me still. Still next to cheeks and tiny soft lips - lips that make me wonder what the divet above an upper lip and below a nose is called. A dew drop could rest there.
My mom has told me about the aching in her heart caused by loving me - I understand that now. With Salamander's new existence here with us, I understand now, the way my mom knows I am just like her. Some how - before him I wouldn't accept it - now I see our identical natures. I see how this love is deeper than others, bigger. My head is where her heart is, just as Salamander's head rests on mine. He makes my chest glow hot gold.
I am divided between the desire to sleep and an utter memorization by his open mouth: the ridges in his dry lips, the inert softness of his vulnerable tongue - oy vey...
I can feel my ability to love expanding with practically every quick breath he takes.