Babies like human faces, I'm told, but apparently especially other babies' faces. There were two baby girls in the arms of family members, sitting in front of us in church yesterday, both about nine months old. On the right, the youngest of six siblings (a beautiful family--I've really loved seeing the kids get older and each new baby turn into a small child). This child had caramel-colored hair, tights with hearts on them, and a pink sweater, and at one point her next-up sister gave her a glittering, pink-flavored rhinestone bracelet to play with, which she proudly showed to everyone, including me. (I was gratified to be included.) Next-up sister was the baby seems like just days ago, but now she's a little person with her own style. I was reminded of the phrase in Esmeralda Santiago's When I was Puerto Rican--"Someone's coming to take your lap." Next-up sister wasn't showing any hard feelings, though.
Anyway, this friendly, outgoing baby caught sight, over to the left, of another baby girl, a more-shy-seeming baby with brown curls and a beautiful dress with white designs of rabbits, ferns, and flowers on a blue ground. (This baby had only one sibling, an older sister, about three or four years old, who was playing with a set of plastic toy horses on the pew.) The eyes of big-family baby lit up when she saw this other baby. She smiled broadly and waved her arms and cooed. The other baby noticed, and a smile spread across her face too, and the two babies looked at each other like they'd just discovered a long-lost friend. They're just starting out their adventure in human existence, and here's a fellow traveler, a comrade.