Cedar Sweep First Light

Malguk's eyes had still not opened.

The sun had been bright. She had fought furiously against the nights, and in the day, she nursed aggressively. Big belly burps and a nice warm tummy. Life was good when mama was awake to nudge her and give kisses! Even better when she fought against her siblings and growled angrily when they got in her way! There was more than enough room, and yet she toppled over them in greedy onslaughts. One was not there. She searched relentlessly for the third, the other! Malguk knew there had been another. She would not find him. He must have been under Mama, sleeping away.

When bellies were full and the day soothed, there was stillness.

No one explained how sunlight was insatiable.
How there would not always be the warmth of another at your side.

How your heartbeat would not always settle in the arms of a father, and how you would not be sung to sleep with the hums of something greater.
How you were lucky to experience the affection of family, and how you flourished when others could not nourish. How the rise in your heart, too, was a treasured feeling, because one day you would learn how it fell. How the song of morning, too, was temporary, and it would not be forever. How the elevation of your soul was a feeling to be tasted, and the bliss of a day was only temporary, and a temporary to cover in cherry blossoms.
There is only once.

Sundown invaded her eyes in golden hour. She had been late to see the world, a patience of wait that went on with each passing day. Engulfed by the hum of sounds and gentle sleep, and terrible wakes. Ears openened, and yet drifted away in a darkness far, far beyond each siblings first light. Closed lids.

A choice she had not taken. Until now.
Timeless.
Malguk's eyes jolted open.

A big, bright smile pulled clumsily at the baby's mouth and she cried with laughter! Her heart poured and she squealed so loudly to unsuspecting mama, flopping around as much as her legs allowed.