THE FEW SECONDS IN THE MORNING

every morning, i always seem to wake merely seconds before augustus. as my eyes slowly open, i see his messy coarse curls right below my chin, his back or his tummy pressed tightly into my curves. his body is always so soft and so very warm, the way only babies are. it's a precious few seconds that i have earned, after chasing him all day and into the night and knowing that if i move slightly, or fix positions or even reach for more covers, i'll break what i live for.

his eyelashes are growing and so are his legs. all of a sudden, the beefy stout thighs without much distinction have grown longer, like the stems of sunflowers. it's a beautiful growth to witness, as most mornings steve and i stare at him and laugh, reflecting on how he looks ever so slightly different than when we put him to sleep.

i like to believe that one day, he will love how much we noticed every little thing about him. all his movements, every certain smile or stillness. i like to believe that what we are as his mother and father is tangible love.