To my firstborn

Your head is there; I can see it; a bigger black bob amongst the sea of baubles.

Your heart is mine; you hand it freely to me every day, trusting that I will love you as you love me, that is to say, entirely, vulnerably, appealingly.

One day your head will nestle against another’s, your heart held by someone else – but until then, dear Lord, help me bring this child up as Your own.