One day, during a barrage of kisses, I heard my wife ask a squirming and giggling Maggie, “Do you think I kiss you too much?”  Her question wore a facial look hard to describe.  I felt a bit like an alien, looking into what may be part of the mysteries of the feminine domain.  For me, it was a rare glimpse of a unique moment, the look of love my wife has for  our daughter.

   With her arms wrapped around the child  they rocked slowly back and forth.  The gaze of her eyes seemed to penetrate beyond Maggie’s big brown eyes, deeper into some far away place, where they found room for only each other.  In that place they joined together in a dance of discovery, and drew closer still, their spirits forming a covenant of hope never to be parted.  It was a place and time, moving softly within her little girl’s heart, to plant the seeds by which her love would be remembered.

  Maggie’s eyes twinkle with curiosity.  Her mouth is wide open as she reaches up with stubby little fingers and honk her playmates nose and poke at the lips that whisper, “I love you.”  Her head of long brown wild hair rests against the breasts that nourish her.  She can feel the beat of her mommy’s heart, and knows she is close to home.  Rocking and singing in her mother’s embrace, Maggie is safe and warm.  Her eyes grow heavy and her breathing slows.  There is peace and security for now, the joy of being a baby