You forget so quickly.
The little sighs.
The quick, shallow breaths.
Fluttery eyes begging to stay awake.

You remember so little.
Sleep deprived nights.
The rush to get the bottle all warmed and ready.
Little sounds that only a baby can make.

But you also remember things long forgotten.
The glow of white Christmas lights in his room.
The world’s loudest creaking board beside her cradle.
The velvet touch of the chair and its gentle eek-eek, eek-eek.
The reflection of you both in the mirror, illuminated by the dim closet light.

Memories stretch from the back to the front and  a smile bubbles up,
giving every atom in your being a shiver as warmth floods your soul.

Him and Her and He and She.
My four tiny(ish) humans, so different but the same.
I miss their teeny-tiny little selves, but I don’t.
Because beyond the babies lay beautiful stories that make you laugh and cry and sigh.
Growing pains and growing strains.
And dreams of lives well-lived.