It was as if two worlds collided. She saw him across the room. He was so small, wrapped in the softest of blankets, held in the most loving of arms. Past Marge in her rocker muttering to herself as always, she hobbled toward him, slowly, surely, hands gripping her walker not so much from fear as from anticipation.
She reached out her hand, old, wrinkled, veins and sunspots spread across the back, and touched his soft baby cheek. His eyes fluttered open. They were the bluest of blue and she didn’t know it but her own blue eyes started sparkling.