Your first home is tucked on the side of a hill surrounded by pine trees. It's a dark gray/brown which allows the greens and yellows of the forest to be the focus. 
In the summer we eat dinner on the wrap around deck and fall asleep while reading on the back patio. In the winter, the livingroom is cozy by the woodburning stove. There is a lasting energy from our dog Abby and three cats Marty, Penny, and Mango. They would have been your companions. Mama has an art room where she paints and Papa has an office on the third floor where he reads and play games. 
Your room is also on the third floor. It feels like being in a tree house. The Prescott hilltops can be seen from your windows.  Mama painted a Wind in the Willows mural on the wall and stuffed animals of Frog and Toad perch on the shelves. This has been Marty's favorite room since the southerly sun lights and warms the room all day. 
Our home is where our lives play out. I often imagine you here curious, exploring, playing. We'd go for walks in the neighborhood and collect pinecones in the backyard. 
This will always be your home. I think you would have loved it. 

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Your papa said there is magic in our hospital room and I know now what he means. The hospital room is where I go in my mind everyday to visit with you. Sometimes I see you just as you are and other times you are full of life. 
Last night I dreamt I was back in the hospital room with you. In every slow-motion detail I changed your diaper while you looked at me with dark eyes. I felt the weight of your body and a gentle resistance in your joints and muscles. Your soft delicate skin and perfectly formed tiny body. I took care to clean you and bundle you up before bringing you close to my chest. 
I know there is magic in our hospital room because I find you there just as you should be. 

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A package of your clothes arrived in the mail today. They brought both smiles and tears. I examined every inch of the navy cotton overalls and imagined them filled with chunky, dimpled legs and large diaper. I wondered what little things you might have stuffed in the pockets. 
I had planned to return the clothes but after having them in my hands I cannot. I know you wont be wearing them but I cannot part with anything belonging to you.