I can feel eyes on me in the dark, watching and waiting.
It is my baby, swaddled, from his bedside bassinet with bright eyes that reflect the glow of the nightlight, like two oil slicks on the pavement.
He is a caterpillar, tightly bundled, with his arms to his sides, wiggling and inching his way closer to me.
I watch the little bug with the face of a human, the sprout of a person, move and struggle against the confines of his swaddle, ready to break free and to unfurl his undeveloped wings.
Not yet, my little caterpillar.
His brother is made of stardust and this boy is of the earth.
Together, they are my universe.