Sometimes, he pulls a face and I can see the little boy he’s going to be. It startles and moves me all at once. Because, surely, I’m going to be the mother of a baby forever, right?
Where did my little orange two-week-old go? Can he really be a third of a year old next week?
Sometimes, I pull a face and I can see the middle-aged woman I’m going to be, but that is neither here nor there.