It is the Eve of my Baby Bear’s birthday. I am in as much shock over this as I was when he was actually born: the swiftness and ease of his birth left me awestruck and amazed, much as I feel now. How could he already be a year old? I loved him every day of this past year; he has slept beside me literally since the day he was born. Even though the years, they pass, you will always be my baby. This thought has been echoing in my head and has turned into a poem, as I seek to capture the truth and transparency that statement makes me feel.
Sleeping in my arms, he definitely is my baby.
Meanwhile I free-wrote descriptors of Baby Bear. Words can’t ever fully capture one’s soul, since souls are so much bigger and more expansive than words. Be that as it may, these came to mind when thinking of him:
Gentle soul. Happy. In love. Beloved. Curious. Alive. Eager. Determined. Patient. Humorous. Watchful. Blessed. Blessing.
Happy Birth Day my sweet!