Moonrise

Infant joy. 

In Spanish, the moon is feminine and the sun masculine. In German it's the reverse. Both languages agree that sun and moon share an unending vigil over earth. When one goes to bed the other rises.

I spent last week at my sister's home in the clouds. Each morning, I woke to church bells and sunshine through skylights. By day, I joined forces with my mama and my sister to hand-stitch a bird mobile for the newest family addition. By night I anticipated moonrise over the rooftops with my nephew.

Taking wing. 

I watched my niece wake from newborn sleep and focus her eyes on a face for the first time - no easy task for an infant. Now she passes the time staring intently at her mother sun and father moon, the bright spheres of her world.

It's a privilege to witness a baby waking. When one is occupied with the demanding business of being an infant sun-god, one just has to muddle through and try to survive. But as a mere witness to the sun-god transformation, it sure is easier to brush aside lovely little details like mastitis and neck poo. As witness, it only looks like a new day dawning and a fire lantern lifting off to light the night sky.

The sun and moon have my sympathy for the work ahead. Babies have a lamentable lack of consideration for normal working hours, and they don't understand that grown-ups have to pee and take the odd once-in-a-blue-moon shower for the purposes of mental health. Rising like the midnight sun to sooth a tiny, fuming insomniac sure feels like a never-ending hangover from a party that never happened.

But when you are important enough to watch over the seasons and the tide, that's just how it goes. In years to come (I am told) there will be time for pee and sleep. Till then, each 2am infant smile is like a tiny glimpse of heaven.