The air is still. The house is quiet. Your to-do list slightly empty. You sense an opportunity and make a move towards the laptop. Password typed. Document opened. Thought and structure in place. Bravo! You lift your finger to strike the first key and just then, the tiny form on the bed stirs.
Ears on high alert to check changes in breathing pattern (not yours, though you might hardly be breathing from trepidition) you pause your eager finger mid-air, and peek over the tousled blanked. Sure enough, the thumb is in the mouth. A perfect mouth, you notice... The absence of teeth as yet, enhances the upper lip, which anyways, is shaped as flower petals. The bluish-green-outlined eyelids are closed. Yet the small mouth has already started furiously sucking the finger. "Ah!," you sigh, since you know that this means another delay.
You shut the laptop yet once again, gazing at it longingly, and then turn your gaze, now a lot more intense, on the tiny form. Something stronger than longing fills inside as you lie down beside your baby. A gentle brush against the lips is enough, and then, with the naturalness of having been born with this knowledge, your little one turns her head (eyes still shut) and latches on to your breast.
The clock ticks away in the background, while you hear the satisfaction in her breath.
Some articles are written, some doctored, while some others, some rare ones, are just lived.
Ears on high alert to check changes in breathing pattern (not yours, though you might hardly be breathing from trepidition) you pause your eager finger mid-air, and peek over the tousled blanked. Sure enough, the thumb is in the mouth. A perfect mouth, you notice... The absence of teeth as yet, enhances the upper lip, which anyways, is shaped as flower petals. The bluish-green-outlined eyelids are closed. Yet the small mouth has already started furiously sucking the finger. "Ah!," you sigh, since you know that this means another delay.
You shut the laptop yet once again, gazing at it longingly, and then turn your gaze, now a lot more intense, on the tiny form. Something stronger than longing fills inside as you lie down beside your baby. A gentle brush against the lips is enough, and then, with the naturalness of having been born with this knowledge, your little one turns her head (eyes still shut) and latches on to your breast.
The clock ticks away in the background, while you hear the satisfaction in her breath.
Some articles are written, some doctored, while some others, some rare ones, are just lived.
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