Tonight you fall asleep with your head on my belly.  It’s not often at this age I get to feel your warm head on my body the way it was so often when you were a baby.  But you took a late nap yesterday and couldn’t fall asleep until almost 11 pm.  As a result, you were so tired today and all I had to do was sit beside you on your bed for a minute.  You come and lay on me looking straight into my eyes, also the way a newborn does, and you never do anymore when you’re more awake.  “Audrey, look at me,” I am always having to tell you now.  But I caress your hair and you look straight at me until your eyes close tonight.  I am programmed to think, “Yes, this is my time!” and cautiously place you back on your bed and head out. But I sit back and stare at you for a little longer.  I even put my fingers under your nose and feel your breath- the way we both did when you were an infant and we were constantly worried about SIDS.  This is the breath of life, I think.  And she is part of you Dan.  I think that more lately.  Sometimes when she hugs me really tightly, tears stream down my cheeks because I get more that she is part of you and you are part of her.  For some reason, I didn’t get that before.  Maybe it was too much for me.  She was just Audrey.  But now I feel like you’ve truly left me a part of yourself.  Someone with your eyelashes and eyes, and skin and fingernails.  It is an awe-inspiring thought when I really get this.  Miraculous.  She is, I think, like a snow globe of our life and love.  There we are in miniature floating around, encased though, so I just can’t touch us.  But she is also so much more than that.