We went to see a tiny newborn today. She was barely six pounds and on her non exsistant neck bobbled her soft good-smelling head. I held her till her heat soaked through the swaddling blanket and my fears of crushing or dropping her faded. I watched the newest member of the world as her tiny fists flailed and her tiny lips stretched and persed with a yawn too big for her face.
She was beautiful in the sense that the last time I had seen her, she was just a hard potrusion of the belly. Then, she hadn’t seemed real, like it wasn’t really a baby in there. Her appearance was a miracle and I felt her mother, and all mothers out there, should recieve a reward for pushing a human being through the birth canal and onto this blighted star.
Her big sister kept ceasing from her own play to rush over and make sure the baby was okay, leaving with a rough kiss to the forehead. The love in each hurried smack filled me with warmth.
She was a true miracle. And aren’t we all? Our simple exsistance, truly a miracle of whatever you believe in.
From the world of the not-so-ordinary,