Here comes the Sun

My Spring babies hatched in the middle of the Winter, but all they knew about climate was the dry constance of seventy degrees, set up in the incubator and, later on, in their house. Three full moons later, all buds had shown up in the garden and I had taken off most of my sweaters. It was time to show them the Sun, I thought, feeling the balmy light. It was not the intensely hot, almost heavy sensation I remember from Brazilian mornings, but definively not cold.
I brought the babies out, one by one. The final destination was a tent made of an old comforter. Only their legs were to be exposed. I was very cautious with their eyes, used only to the filtered lights of blinds and night lamps.
Cecilia was the first one. She made a strong move with her head, blind with the omnipresent clarity. Five seconds later, she blinked tentatively and that was it: she stopped winning and stared looking aroundl. Could she listen to the many sabias chirping nearby? I want to believe so.
I brought Evelyn down, a crancky seven pownder, ready to dislike even the warmest bottle. She curled into my chest and yelled a bit. Little by little, the warmth penetrated the layers of her clothing. I could see her bald head sweat. She relaxed and felt asleep. Didn't wake up when I placed her on the bouncing seat, her tiny bare legs taking in all the vitamin D she needed to grow.
Then it was Jessie's turn. Jessie, the easy going, no-fuss baby was waiting for me with her big honey-glaze eyes sweeping the ceiling. I told her she was about to see the most beautiful ceiling ever - a clear sky. Cecilia turned her head to the left (she does have a low muscle tone in her neck and I still worry about it) to avoid the harshness of the light and stood there, looking up the sky. I'd have to work for decades to achieve her peaceful contemplative state.
I took their clothes off and left each one at their private Paradise: Cecilia investigating the infinite variety of Nature, Evelyn being a living growing miracle and Jessie enjoying the blissfulness of that morning to the fullest.
I would love to stay there - but they needed to have the next feed ready for them. I kept an eye on them - we never know when starving wolves will invate the yards of Framingham - and went to the kitchen, a busy mom.