Have you ever held an infant and wondered if they were trying to say something as their face contorted? Wondered if there were conscious thoughts in that little mind that were struggling to be expressed? Wondered if that look on their face revealed just for a moment that they recognized something?

"Why is it so cold in here?" That was the first thought of the five-day old baby as he awoke. Looking back to the last few days, today was not starting out any different than the rest because it had been cold every morning of his new life so far.

Yesterday started the same way, but everything was still such a stark new reality that he had not gotten used to any sensation quite yet. Each day had been filled with wonder at the new sounds and sights around him. Yet somewhere, he had a thin knowledge of having seen this before, having smelled the smells around him, having known of these things somehow.

Today he felt a deeper interest in the movements around him, in his mother's gentle feeding, in his own thoughts.

As he moved his eyes more sounds crept into his ears. A rustling noise from somewhere, shuffling sounds, a throaty animal noise, his mother's voice. It was a patchwork quilt of tones and timbres that entered his ears and made him turn his little head and listen, even though he wasn't yet able to recognize what he was hearing.

Still there was something of importance that he felt today. A need to try to tell the things around him about something that had happened, or was going to happen, or would forever happen. What was it? It was all too far away for him to understand, but he felt it.

Just then, his mother noticed his open eyes, picked him up and held him close. His arms were pinned to his side with the cloth that was wrapped around him and as his little cheek brushed across hers, he wanted to touch her face and tell her in some way how he felt about her. He wanted to be able to say to her how important she was in his life. He wanted to let her know that of everything around him, he was fascinated by her most of all.

(Wait! What else was it?) He almost had it for a minute. It was something he felt when he was near her, something about his feelings about her. Something he should try to let her know. (Ohh...) The distant thought was gone and he couldn't remember.

He was now being given a tour of his surroundings as his mother proudly held him out to see everything in his new little world. There were interesting shapes and movements in every direction. Different colors, different looking things, some tall, some short. What was that sound? There was a bleating noise as though something was sick or crying. It was a short white wooly thing with four legs and a very big stomach, the sign that it would soon be having a baby of its own.

And that tall person. He looked familiar. For a brief second a look flashed across the baby's face that was very close to a smile.

(I love him. I don't know why. But wait a minute, there's that thought again. What is it? Oh, if only I could remember.)

And, there were other tall people with long sticks in their hands, one end on the ground, the other, a curled section, up in the air. They were talking to the first tall person and looking toward the baby. Everyone seemed to be smiling.

As the baby saw each person he felt great warmth. "These are mine," he thought. "These people around me are mine." And, as he drifted off into silent sleep he dreamed of crowds of people gathered around him, listening as he talked, waiting for his words, trying to touch him. A tiny smile crept across his face again as he remembered what he needed to tell them.

"Look Joseph," said the baby's mother to the tall man, "he almost looks as if he's smiling. I wonder what he's thinking right now."

Oh Mary, if you only knew.