Jacob Have I Loved

“You should hold him,” I said. “Hold him as much as you can. Or let his mother hold him.”

She started for the door. “Nurse. Should I baptize him as well?”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Baptize him and then let Essie nurse him.”

My own breasts were swollen with milk for Truitt. I knew his father would bring him to me soon, but there was plenty. I took my baby out of the oven and held her mouth to catch the milk, which began to flow of its own accord. A perfect tongue, smaller than a newborn kitten’s, reached out for the drops of milk on her lips. Then the little mouth rooted against my breast until she had found the nipple for herself.

Hours later, walking home, my boots crunching on the snow, I bent my head backward to drink in the crystal stars. And clearly, as though the voice came from just behind me, I heard a melody so sweet and pure that I had to hold myself to keep from shattering:

I wonder as I wander out under the sky…