It’s a sunny day, a rare surprise these days. The sound of rain has been a constant companion for the last few weeks, however, it’s one companion I don’t miss when it goes away. I am sitting on the edge of the couch in my son and daughter-in-law’s house. Ari is sleeping on the ottoman, snug in his little cot, covered in a soft blanket. The TV is on, some home show, but I’m not really watching it. My attention is on the darling little boy in front of me.

He’s a restless, noisy sleeper. He often stretches and moves, accompanied by little vocalizations. His eyes flicker and sometimes partially open. He’s not sleeping deeply. When I move the couch creaks and he reacts to it. I’m fascinated by the expressions that pass over his face. Every now and then his face turns red, and his face crinkles up likes he’s about to start crying. I get up, ready to pick him up if the crying starts. He wiggles a little, sobs once than settles back to sleep. Sometimes he frowns, looking so sad but it passes and he sleeps on. Every now and then he gives a big sigh and seems to fall deeper asleep. Then he’ll stretch and make the sound that everyone makes when they stretch, that long drawn out sound that makes the stretch feel better. His chest goes up and down, his chin woggles as he makes a little sucking motion, some self-soothing instinct. His arms come up by his face, he pulls his legs up and squeaks at both ends. He stretches out again, his little hands in fists up by his head, the classic newborn sleeping pose. He stays like that for a while, then stretches again, this time turning his head to the other side. One deep breath and he settles again.

He was active this morning. My daughter-in-law said he only napped for about half an hour. He didn’t want to settle. She gave him a bath and fed him just before I arrived. She put him into my arms and went upstairs. He looked at me as I stood rocking back and forth, patting his little bottom. His eyes rolled a couple of times as he fought going to sleep. But the warm bath, his full tummy and the rocking motion broke down his defences. Less than 10 minutes after my arrival he was asleep. I held him for a bit then put him in his cot.

I don’t think I ever sat for hours and watched my boys when they were babies. There was always something to do, but as a MeMe my only job here is to watch him, to sit close by and marvel at the miracle that he is. His little frowns and his one-sided smiles, and yes they are smiles, melt my heart. His face stays with me all day. I see it in my mind’s eye when I wake up. It flits through my mind during the day and it’s one of the last things I think about before I go to sleep.

He’s sleeping now but I’ve had some visits with him where he’s been alert, his eyes wide and focussed. He’s starting to make little sounds when he’s awake, purposeful sounds, in response to us talking to him. He sometimes really looks at us, trying to figure out who we are. He knows his mommy’s and daddy’s voices and I hope he’ll soon recognize ours.

Ending up here on the coast was a blessing, although going through everything was very stressful. But all of those events led to here, to being close by and able to help out. To say it was all worth it is the understatement of all time. I guess the universe knew what it was doing.

Now, I must stop writing. I think the cutest, sweetest little boy in the world is waking up. He opened his eyes, saw his MeMe and smiled. Life is very good y’all, very good indeed.