Fresh From the Heart of God
45 minutes in this world, and I'm holding you in my arms. Beautiful baby boy, still covered with the muck of slipping from your mother's womb. Masses of curly black hair matted to your head, a nose flattened from wrenching through a birth canal, slender fingers not yet pink - your teensy little heart is still pumping to get oxygen there. Eyes full of liquid, squinting to take it all in.
Was it the instant I saw you and you were your father, 28 years ago, putting me right back there in that hospital bed, body sore and tired from hard work, but full of enough pride to make up for the soreness, or was it seeing your Daddy holding you? This child of mine looking completely satisfied with life, yet full of dreams of teaching you how to fish or dribble or tie a tie or make a campfire or how to treat a lady?
Daniel Wayne, Jr, not yet an hour old, 6th gift from the hands of God to this Grammy, you completely undid me.
Was it the instant I saw you and you were your father, 28 years ago, putting me right back there in that hospital bed, body sore and tired from hard work, but full of enough pride to make up for the soreness, or was it seeing your Daddy holding you? This child of mine looking completely satisfied with life, yet full of dreams of teaching you how to fish or dribble or tie a tie or make a campfire or how to treat a lady?
Daniel Wayne, Jr, not yet an hour old, 6th gift from the hands of God to this Grammy, you completely undid me.
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