they played and they ate and they cried and they were changed, and then they slept.
i darkened the living room, and breathed in peace. i breathed in more energy with each breath than i drank from the coffee, though i had that too. i nourished my body, caffeinated my brain, soothed my emotions with a cranberry-scented candle, and centered my spirit in the silence.
a long moment later, her soft cry carried down the hall.
i scooped up her warm soft body, and she buried her flushed face in my neck. i inhaled her babyness, her cloud of fluffy hair, and brought her to my breast. her eyes closed, but she did not sleep again.
the candle burned steadily.
her first name, aida (eye-EE-dah), has many meanings. “happy.” “gift.” “returning.” her middle name, sage, means “wise one.” her last name means “bright,” or “shining.”
aida sage’s eyes suddenly opened, and she popped up, grinning, as a rogue curl flipped over her ear.