The Whole 9 Yards

The other night, we were driving home from our favorite hotpot place. It was a full moon. Amelia was on my chest, sleeping. I can feel her gentle breathing. Her hair is soft like cotton. I remember listening to my baby’s heartbeat through a doppler during pregnancy. Now, I can hear her little heart pound by simply putting my ear to her chest. It is still music to my ears.

It’s amazing to see how much Amelia has grown. She’s already six months old and has gone from being tiny enough to fit in my chest space to as long as my entire torso. As I realize how quickly time is passing, I hold her a little tighter. Maybe time will slow down this way.

My mind then wanders towards the window. It wasn’t too dark out at 8 p.m. The full moon illuminates the mountains, casting a faint silhouette of its slopes. The mountains have left my view, but now I am fixed on the electric posts that extend through the freeway. I’m feeling inspired. I can paint this.

Electric posts extend to infinity, or so it seems. It reminds me of home.

Back home electric posts are closer together. Roads are smaller. Traffic is worse. People cross the street anytime they please. It was warmer, literally and figuratively. I miss home.

Amelia makes a sound. I gently pat her to sleep. I realize, I’m home.

11/6/23