Holding Your Best Friend's Baby
On gratitude.
Last weekend, one of my very closest friends was in town for too brief a time—a visit that overlapped with my mom and sister’s arrival, and my sister-in-law and her partner were here, too. But I couldn’t pass up the chance to see her so, fuck it, I said, and invited everyone over.
The living room was crowded. There are never enough chairs for everyone, so some sat on the floor with the kids, who upended O.’s basket of toys and played, as best as they could, together.
I held her baby the way I hold O.—balanced on one hip, their little hands on my chest and shoulder. She’s just a few months younger, but felt so small in my arms compared to his familiar weight.
Everything, for a little while, was so much lighter.
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