Whitefish River To make you feel my love

it was warm here. comfortable. he felt everything and yet was unaware he had yet feel anything. it was dark, yet he also did not know the warm glow of light. sounds had made their way to him in his residence and they had been exciting. the gentleness of his mother's voice something that would soothe the babe when he began to writhe and wriggle. the different tones of others that came and went. he had no idea what any of it meant. he had no idea that soon he would become another part of the unit he had silently experienced. all he knew was that, for now, he was happy. 

 then things began to change. the environment he had been accustomed too seemed to move around him. what was going on? the babe signaled alarm in the only way he knew how. he began to move himself. swimming and struggling. then it all seemed clear. where he must go. and go he did. 

 there was instantly so much going on. his first breathe of raw air as his mother's tongue danced across his wet body. the loss of the safeness he had been feeling. the warm, and yet somehow still cold, air. he squeakd a dramatic squeak until he felt the grasp of his ma. her grasp guiding to him to what he yearned for, but did not recognize. she offered him food to quell his hunger he would take to it. hungrily, easily: mother's milk. and then the babe would slip into slumber against the warmth of his mother's body and the other familiar that was his peaceful sister.

 what was all of this for? what was happening? but minutes old and nothing more than a brown blob. he was enduring experiencing things he had not yet made associations to. one thing was quite clear. everything was going to change. suddenly, it already had.