This

Lucia was just about to turn five months old. I had the entire month off from work—the first time I deliberately shied away from extra work since I started teaching—and we spent every single blessed day together. We had no yaya and so I did everything while "wearing" her on a sling.

Afternoons were my favorite. The world slowed down a bit. She'd be napping and I'd be watching her little face, gently marked with the footprints of her dreams: dimples and crinkles and fleeting half-giggles. I specifically told myself to remember that moment, that time, that period. My chest swelled with happiness.

("I shall remember these days, the halcyon days of my prime and your infancy, when protecting you against the noisy neighbor was my highest mandate. Soon, it shall be much more complicated. It shall be much more daunting." - April, 2011. Remember that wretched boy, Andre?)

And now, Lucia is napping, one leg languidly and obnoxiously draped over my thighs, as if to say, "Yes, I am napping, but I'll know if you stand up and leave, so stay there."

I feel my chest swell again. And in this moment, I am happy.