mobile of memories

The mind is a crazy place at 12, 2, and 4 a.m. Those are roughly the times I’m now awake since Calvin has come into the world. Early Monday morning I found myself reflecting on the weekend’s events, and started examining each happening like a piece in a beautiful and logical puzzle. The pieces were swirling in my brain like a mobile … Cal’s head peeking over Shaun’s shoulder, his eyes peering at me and the world, happy as a clam on his newfound perch … mowing the lawn for the first time with Cal in the baby carrier, the wind offering the smell of grass clippings, Cal silent and alert, watching the mower zigzag on its course … Cal’s pursed lips, unsure about the temperature of the bath water and the prospect of being wet in his Euro tub, which made us laugh … Cal smiling at the puppet snake with a funny overbite in the car on the way to breakfast … bub nestled in my arms at church, sound asleep as we sang … churchgoers ogling over him “ooooh that’s a peeeerfect baby” … Shaun helping Cal stand and his little grunts to support himself, trying so hard … Cal's round head, which my world now revolves around, and his tiny, lively features, rosy cheeks, and twirling tongue … and, looking down, Cal’s long body in my lap as he eats, his feet dangling over my thighs now and his hands bopping up and down, even as his eyes are closed … I’ll forever have that swirling mobile of memories of the first weekend in April tucked away for safe keeping.