Two little eggs
One is dead inside,
One has a promising darkness inside.

“See?” I tell my daughter
“He’s in there, waiting to come out!”
We shine the light through, and feel his movement. Persistent, disruptive and strong.

Sit him in the incubator
Wait forever.
Finally he emerges, all sticky and soft

It is a lifetime before I am allowed to see him, meet him, know him, hear his chirpy voice.

He is joyful as the transformation occurs, and I wrap him up in a warm blanket to ease him into our world.

In no time at all, he is growing, walking up to me, hugging and laughing and speaking in full sentences, that goofy crop of hair standing up already.

My baby boy was once a bird, and he’s flying through life at breakneck speed, now we are running, he holds my hand as we cross the street, now he’s tall and no longer on my lap.

Flying away, strong and headstrong
Soon he will drive, and already if I want to look him in the eye, I must stand on a crate to reach his level.

Please remember to fly home sometimes.