This is a special picture to me, my culmination of emotion etched by the combination of the tenderness of the moment and also its history. I can remember barely being out of the stage of being bathed in the sink myself, but saying, "Grandmama's giving the new baby the first bath... again!" And Grandmama was there, giving the freshly breathing infant a meticulous cleansing in the silver kitchen sink. And soon out would come the Johnson-smelling and swaddled new Lang addition.
But here was Eddie and I's newest addition, with the tenderness of my mother's hands cradlign it into the world. This grandma'am hands softly washed him, hands which had given dozens of baths to children in kitchen sinks and thousands of kisses to the silken cheeks that smelled of Johnson No Tears, but the little one within her arms was my own son.
It is a simple tradition, but precious to my heart nonetheless. My child will come into this world and immediately know of the caring hands of his family. And while the tenderness will not always be a tangible hug and bathing, it will continue in tender prayers... long after he's grown out of the sink.
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