Enchanted

It was a dreamfeed at 10:40pm. I keep it dimly lit for those feedings, keep it quiet and slow.

He was a sleepy mess, eyes shut, moaning and dozing off in the middle of a suck.
But he was all in white.
White onesie,
white sleeper,
white socks covering his fingers
— a dreamy child awash in milky folds,
sailing between waking and sleeping.

And then I found his eyes.

They were suddenly open and looking at mine by the light of the Christmas tree.  He had paused his eating expedition to find mommy’s eyes in the dark. And he was smiling at me, soft and warm.

It was as though he knew more than me. His large, round eyes blinked at me with owl-like softness. It was as though I were transported to another world. A fairy-world. Or maybe it was simply that the veil had lifted and I knew finally that everything was truly magic.

He had me locked into his eyes. He drew me in nearer with sweet and light “ah-ahhh”s and “ohhh”s, his head gently drawing back with each one as though he were a fisherman wooing his catch. I was enchanted. I felt like crying.

We were there, the two of us. Looking at each other. We both loved it.

The moment ended with him remembering that he was hungry. He fussed.

(…It also was magical that he didn’t spit up at all during that feeding…. magical in a different, practical sense….)

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