Joy was the wet and slippery, the heat that took me by surprise, the purple question-mark laid on my elastain sack of a belly

Joy was the eyes enquiring after only seconds outside me, searching me out through the scrunched up screams-the calm in recognition after the trauma

Joy was the fluid spouting forth from my body unbidden when you cried, sustaining you

Joy was the nestling in the crook of my arm, your smell on me, your trust, your skin, like kid leather too big for your frame-a suit yet to fill

Joy was your growth, ounce on ounce, measured by weight not height

Joy was walking by the sea with the cold spray in my eyes, the ice on the ground but you swaddled against my chest inside my coat beat to beat

Joy was waking with you staring into my eyes

Joy is seeing you grow into a boy full of delight and wonder at your world

Joy will be seeing you grow into the man. My son, always the tiny one and at once forever larger than my heart can contend

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