We lie in the stillness of the night, his fragile body upon my chest. The rise and fall of his breath. The calm that the slow and steady rhythm brings to us both. Just like when he was a baby, except now he's nine and doesn't quite fit in the crook of my neck. The intention is the same, though. Giving him comfort and security through the magic of touch and closeness; a little peace in this unfamiliar territory. Yes, peace is exactly what we need after the weekend we had... He fell. Head first off a climbing sculpture at Franconia Park. He chipped three teeth and broke both wrists. Until the swelling goes down, he will wear the splints. Then the casts, and when the pain is a little more manageable, we'll see about the dentist. For now we're reminded of how life was with a newborn, slow and engrossed in an intoxicating amount of love for this boy.