Grandson Senses

Grandson Senses

I saw you before you saw me.

I had a chance to study your little round face, framed by a snugly cap.

I tried to place those familiar features, tried to find a possible source for the rest.

You look like your daddy; With his nose and his forehead.

You have your Mama’s red hair, and her chin.

You are quite beautiful, and quite unique.

I watched while you squirmed, grimaced, did the gentlest shudder.  Your eyes moved under their lids, you retreated into your blanket. But all the while your eyes stayed shut. Could you hear our voices, your parents’ and mine? Did we sound clearer now that you are on the outside?

I ran my finger along your downy cheek. So soft, that newly dry baby skin, like no other softness on earth. And warm still, a residual warmth from deep within your mother.

We then smelled you, bringing our faces close to yours. A scent only found on the skin of the newly born.

Finally, we kissed you, each of us in turn.

When I came close I could hear the barely perceptible sighs and snuffles made by breaths brand new; breaths still in practice.

The camera captures the moment, but my heart will hold these first senses of your life more closely, more carefully, more completely, for as long as my heart continues to beat.