In her post Before, and after Gwendomama writes of a brain vacation--one of those rare, gifted moments of visitation and vivid, all-senses memory--and the abruptness of the brain returning to duty. By sharing with us her Elijah she gives us a dose of our own, and we thank her for it, and we understand.

For a moment, he was never gone, there was no 'before'. There was no 'after'. There was only Elijah. He was just here. In my arms. He was mine; he always had been. All of his cedary sweet milky vanilla gorgeous cheeky delicious chunky ethereal baby awesomeness was mine.

For a moment I was allowed the thrill of him, the thrill of being his mother. The incredible 'I'm not worthy' feeling as I gazed at this beautiful creature and breathed him in. The pride. For a moment I felt joy when I looked down at my son. For a moment I felt the love gushing out of me, the dam had broken, it all rushed straight into my son while I watched it pour all over him. I could not stop it; it all was his and there he was, in my arms, absorbing every single drop.