is watching Mariel sleep.
Since she does this a lot, I have plenty of time to lay on the bed and look at her. Sometimes, she seems to smile. She furrows her brow a lot, just like I do. Her eyes flutter. Her hands are balled into little fists, which she likes to shove into her mouth, often with one finger popping up into an eye.
“Do babies dream?,” I wonder as I look at her, wanting–for the first of what will surely be millions of times–to know what is happening inside of her head.