Note to Beckam

  

Dear Beckam

Please stay asleep all night.
I can't be mad at you for causing me to loose sleep.  I know it is not intentional.
But this has been going on for 2 weeks, this cold.
And we both need to rest.

I can't help but to cuddle your thick chunk of body in the rocking chair, no matter how much mucus shoots from your nose.

I will remember you as the baby I rocked through snow storms.
Quiet living rooms in delicate winter hours.
Our time set apart from the rest of life.  Just you and I and the snowfall.
Your grumbly little cry turning to a story of things I feel but can't put into words.
I understand, and I tell you so,
"I know little buddy...I know."

I smooth your red hair, my red hair, along your wide forehead.
You are my only red-head.
The only one with my orange zest.
It makes me love both of us more.
Your forehead has a dark flower of bruise on one side.  This bruise is always with you.  It migrates, but I can always find it.  Evidence of your efforts to walk.  Already you are a rugby player.

Today you blew bubbles in the bath with Sophie.
She is sick, but she smiled at you.

Pepper was in hysterics watching you stick your monkey butt into the air and push your truck across the kitchen.

I will miss you this way,  perhaps more than any other baby.  I don't know why.
But I will encourage you to grow up, just as I have the others.
Even though I ache to think of the Beckam I held today, turning into someone else.
Someone bigger. 
Someone less innocent.
Someone who thinks he's not supposed to cry.
Someone I can't rock in the living room snow.