Where in I consider how there is nothing like being loved by a baby and how oblivious we are to it until after the fact

Where in I consider how there is nothing like being loved by a baby and how oblivious we are to it until after the fact •

Chubby cheeks dimpled
by the ear-to-ear grin, 
splitting face 
from side to side,

 tiny hands,
also dimpled,
grip the wooden railing,

 nine-month baby legs
stand at attention,
knees bent in a little bounce,

 wispy hair sticks up atop
creating a halo
above sparkling eyes, 

every morning,
now that she pulls herself up on everything,
every morning,

 she bounces and beams 
so happily delighted to see us,
so pleased,
expectant,
exuberant, 

She Loves Us With Abandon. 

 no performance,
in fact, she cries whenever something in her world upsets her – wails, in fact, at times –
her innocence allows authenticness 

she hasn’t learned yet to make herself too little or too much, to shrink or postulate,

she expects to be loved and cared for,
she expects to be lifted from the crib and cuddled and kissed and cooed over, 
she expects to be changed and bathed and fed and attended to, 
she doesn’t know how much it calls forth from a caregiver to be that depended on,

she only knows it is morning again and there is sunshine and she is awake and here we are lifting her up and out,

So Happy to See Her so Happy to See Us.

and we don’t know until now twenty-six years later how loved we felt in that moment.