Love's first baby cuddles with 18 month old Arie. It was a hot, humid afternoon, the kind of day where the air feels heavy and thick. Baby Love's wispy, fine hair became curly and matted, sticking to her warm skin near the nape of her neck. She giggled in my dear friend, Kate's arms, more than I have heard her giggle before. Her tiny sparkling eyes crinkled into half moons with her wide open grin and in the corner of each cheek we began to see the faintest hint of dimples as Arie and her elder sister, Indie looked on in curious wonder. Oh how I love to hear the sound of happy babes.
In the late afternoon we stood on the porch looking back over rich green pasture where Kate's cows stood together, grazing slowly. In the distance, dark clouds rolled over the town and a dense sheet of rain began to fall, like a curtain cloaking the countryside. With the refreshing scent of the approaching rain, Kate and I hugged each other goodbye before bundling our daughters into our cars and heading our separate ways.
Byron, Love and I headed into town, where we waited in the carpark of a local Thai restaurant for our takeaway. I fed Love in the backseat as the heavy downpour drummed against the roof and windows. On the way home, the scent of our takeaway meal wafted throughout the car, causing our stomachs to grumble. The showers stopped suddenly leaving behind glossy wet foliage in the trees that lined the streets and a layer of ground mist rising from the road.