365 Days (Part 1) | ✓

Day 6. Eye Contact

6. Eye Contact: Write about two people seeing each other for the first.

"Oh my."

There's the stench of birth, and an eerie silence after the tortured screams, and a sheen of sweat covering her face, plastering the now damp curls around her face to her feverish skin, but none of that matters now. The earth has shifted. The entire galaxy has changed its purpose, from revolving around her to now functioning with this little wonder's happiness as its primary concern.

She could barely believe it. It wasn't just that her daughter now lay in her arms. Part of her shock was in that her perspective had so radically altered upon her baby's entrance to the world. She was a new person, in one abrupt transition, but it couldn't be helped. Once she laid eyes on her daughter there was no other option but to spend the rest of her life for this child.

The child was still squalling, her tiny limbs jerking without her control. She had no power over herself or her limbs. She just knew that she disliked leaving the warmth and familiarity of the womb for this white, sterilized hospital. Pretty girl, I know it's a harsh world, but I'll make it as happy a place as possible for you, her mother vowed, tenderly stroking the tiny, delicate fist with one forefinger.

Her daughter quieted, her eyes staring blankly around. She had her father's eyes, but everything else was her mother's: the wide nose, the roundness of the cheeks, the slightly fuller lower lip. Even her hairline reminded the woman of what she saw in the mirror.

It was hard to tell what kind of hair this little, wrinkled human would have. Right now it was wispy, and almost looked blonde, but maybe that was because there was so little of it.

"Hello," the woman whispered chokingly. The emotions assaulting her were both overwhelming and fierce. It was like a longing in her heart had been filled; a missing piece had been found (or rather, produces) and inserted into place. "Hello, my baby. I'm your mama."