There's so much I want to say about this baby, Quinn Claire. Like how I felt holding her, amazingly happy, or before that, how I felt driving on Rt. 2 past my alma mater, Goddard College, joyful, then on to Duxbury to my cousin's house on the mountain.
Snow flying, sunshine, country roads.
My week in Vermont surprised me. I'm still making sense of it. And I'm grateful for every piece of it. Even the night(s) I was up late in my tiny room, watching Jon Stewart clips on my computer, shoving Goldfish in my mouth. Oh, the things that go on behind closed doors...
I was going to drive straight home to PA last Friday but I'm so glad I didn't. As soon as I met her it was apparent that spending time with Quinn Claire was necessary to the recovery of my lost mojo.
Babies appear to know little of the world, since they're so brand new, but to me, they are all-knowing. I'm happy around them, especially the ones that fall asleep on my chest, riding the waves of breath.
Quinn Claire curled up like a puppy in the crook of my neck,
pure bliss.
Then there's this gazing thing.
[*read Not Nearly As Nervous]
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