Soothing humming by the bassinet. White lace and mobile of stars and moons. It smells like baby powder and fresh air. There’s an open window bringing in a breeze from this cool summer’s day. A cat meows. The walls are painted powder blue and there are little toys put in their places and tucked away in their corners. The baby is sleeping, napping. Mother takes a peach colored blanket with little roses on it, and tucks in her sleeping child. The eyes are closed. Her smooth head rests gently atop a white pillow. No more crying. A pacifier tucked in her mouth as she suckles herself to sleep. Everything is okay, secure. Mother protects, ensures, keeps safe. She leaves quietly, closing the door behind her to ensure the baby will not be disturbed. She hates to part with her babe. She feels it in her heart. The pain of just stepping away a few steps. But she knows she must. But it’s hard, difficult, challenging. She has a baby monitor. She’ll know when the baby wakes up and starts crying and rustling around. She opens a few more windows around the house to let in the fresh air. She makes a sandwich, sews and knits little booties for the baby. She is a multi-tasking witch, doing everything she can to make her house a home and to care for her baby. It won’t be summer forever. The seasons don’t exist in a vacuum. Winter will be here soon and it’ll be time for coats and boots and hats and scarves and little earmuffs. She pours herself some lemonade and stands on the porch looking outward at the barren farmland stretched beyond their home. This child was a miracle, she thinks to herself. This child couldn’t have come at a worse or better time. Just then, she hears the static of the monitor and pauses. A silence follows before the cry. She sets down her glass and reenters through the front door and up the stairs.