And I also know that by 2:42 a.m. when all has been restored and babies are sleeping again and the window is cracked open for a bit
of fresh air, when we are back in our bed and quietly groaning at how over-the-puking-thing we both are by now, it's then, when he reaches
out for me and moves the hair back off my neck before resting his calloused
hands on the baby still
growing within me, when the baby rolls up against his
palm, and he whispers, «hey, you» quietly, it's in that moment that I think the love we make or find or reimagine at the unexpected moments is still the sweetest.
Or fires set to clear land for agriculture can get
out of hand, like they've done in Indonesia: Over the last few decades, the country has drained many
of its peatlands to
grow oil
palms and other crops.