Fleeting

Sunday, Brian fell asleep in the car. The sun was both strong and warm, and he succombed to its pull.

While driving, I watched him in quick glances. Cheek tight against the upholstery, his entire body limp,his hands loosely curled in slumber.

His hands. Still childishly rounded, all soft surfaces, no visible bones. Perfect, soft hands. And as I watched the shadows dance across them, I was thankful that his hands were shown to me. Soon, like every aspect of his appearance, they will begin to change, slowly metamorphasize into their adult form.

But I got to look at my baby's hands in the light.