Crown of fire...

Dear Nicky,

This afternoon, your grandparents from Mom's side came for a visit and after a little while, we went for a walk. We did the route you and I usually do: down the promenade and around the pier. The pier gets a nice breeze off the river most days and it's quite pleasant, but the increasing number of derelicts is detracting from its enjoyability. But I digress. After our circuit, your grandparents left, and we walked back up the promenade to sit on a bench for a while (I sat; you reclined in your stroller). As you slept, the breeze tousled your hair. The sun was setting and it colored everything with a soft orange glow. Earlier today, I gave you a bath, which in addition to making you clean and good-smelling, also makes your hair very soft and flowing. The breeze lifted your hair up into all directions out from your head, and the sun lit it up like a torch, and I kept staring at you because it looked like there was a flaming halo around your head, like when you remove a coal from a fireplace and you see soft, gentle flames pirouetting around. It was rather stunning, in hindsight. While I was impressed seeing it, it didn't sink in until later, when you were doing some tummy time. You were on your mat, not doing much, while I was shaking a rattle by your head encouraging you to lift it up. You were wearing those tight little stretchy knickers that keep your hips in. They don't look like much, but they're good. Seeing you lying there made me kind of sad because I was worried that you might have plateaued developmentally. Then, like you read my mind, and without any help from me, you rolled over. You lifted your head up like a cobra and heaved yourself over onto your back. It was amazing and delightful. I called Mom and she was so happy. And later I would think about you rolling over and I'd remember that moment on the park bench, when the wind and the sun gave you a crown of flames, and think what a marvelous fellow you are.

Love,
Dad