I have a confession to make, little man.
Before you were born,
I hoped you would have blue eyes,
just like your mama.
Silly and selfish, I know,
but I wanted visual proof
that you were mine,
all mine.
And when you arrived,
there they were:
pools of deep blue,
like the middle of the ocean.

But babies like you,
caught between here and there,
handed down to us by angels,
sometimes must complete
their transformations
upon arrival.
And over a course
of days and weeks,
those pools of blue
turned to this
rich, beautiful,
melt-my-heart brown.
And I can’t believe
I ever wanted them
any other way.

The truth is,
my sweet boy,
once they handed you to me
and I held you in my arms,
I closed my eyes to see you.
And that was all it took
to know that you were mine.