It was my favorite marble, out of all the treasured ones I kept in that faded denim bag with the red drawstring. It was one of my “shooter” marbles, and it was clear, with a beautiful blue swirl frozen inside the glass like smoke. I loved to hold it, rolling the smooth, pure-blue beauty of it against my palms. At the time, I couldn’t imagine that any other shade of blue would ever be so lovely.
Then I saw your face for the first time. And I looked into your eyes. They were dark blue, rimmed with breathtakingly long lashes. And on the bridge of your nose, next to your left eye, was the most delicate, milky-blue vein, just beneath the surface of your skin.
When we take you outside, you arch and twist to see the leaves outlined against the blue sky. Once you have just the right angle, you relax into the green-and-blue marvel of it all, staring with a steady curiosity that makes me weak with awe and gratitude.
You are, by turns, curious and reflective, joyful and funny. You grin at everyone, and you’re prone to the most infectious baby giggles I’ve ever heard. You are affable and easygoing. Your “voice” is darling and delightful. Even though you’re only four months old, I can tell that you will be kind and thoughtful, charming and lighthearted.
Early in the morning, when you first awaken, your sister gets into our bed, and we all nestle close under the covers and look into your eyes. As we “talk” to you and each other, you smile that incredible, full-body-wiggle smile of yours. Then I open the shades, and you look out the window. The sun is just beginning to rise, and the trees stretch their tall branches into the sky. You stare, mesmerized, at the big, wide world.
I would give anything to hold this moment–this memory of me there with you, and your dad, and your sister in the pale-blue dawn. I want to capture it forever, a wisp of smoke frozen in glass.