"Handle with Care"

The relationship between mother and newly-born son.

When he was a newborn, he was as fragile as a carton of eggs and not much bigger. One of her hands, smaller than the average adult’s, could have cracked his face if they did not convulse every time he was near. Now his arms and legs have so much meat in them that they bulge and fold, and he drinks so much milk that it sloshes around inside him, the little bronze balloon. She shakes her smiling mouth and blows on his taut belly until he giggles and spits. She’s singing his name out in soprano between. She shakes and blows again�"he grabs her hair with one hand and her cheek with the other. Prying her knotted locks from him, she thinks, These hands will be bigger than mine one day.

Author's Note

"Handle with Care" is one part of a series that I am writing on mothers. This is not the final draft. Sequencing and titles are bound to change. I would appreciate any feedback.