This morning at 4:35 a.m. we were awakened to the precious sounds of our baby cooing his "O's" from his bedside pram. Amado was singing in the dawn, with a gentle, but persistent "Oooooo", "oooooo", "ooooo." "Ooooo", "ooooo", "ooooo." It was so sweet, he almost seemed like he was trying to sing quietly so that he would not wake us up.
I opened my eyes, but didn't move. As I laid there listening I could see Venus rising outside in the deep blue sky. "Ooooo", "Ooooo." Occasionally the "Ooooo's" were punctuated with a little kick on the end of the pram. The beginning of light outside reminded me of the mornings when I was a small child in East L.A. and I would lay in my bed look out at the pre-dawn sky and listen to the mourning doves coo. It was one of my favourite things to do.
By 5:00 a.m., I got up and took Amado into the other room because I didn't want him to wake up Wendy. We played together all morning. And now, at the end of day, I am exhausted and Amado is asleep again.
One morning many years ago I learned to whistle, watching the sunrise by myself and trying to imitate the mourning doves. That time seems so close to me now.
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