He falls asleep with his head snuggled in between my arm and my chest, my face pressed into his hair.
I gaze down, try to tattoo onto my memory the way his long, dark eyelashes rest gently above his soft chubby cheeks. I close my own eyes -- a test of sorts -- to see if I can remember each part of his baby face.
And I can't.
So I take a picture from the exact angle ...though, it's never the same as what's really before me.
But is anything ever really the same in mind or snapshot as what's laid out before us?