Running alongside the stroller with him. He’s still so small as to face backwards in the infant car seat propped into it. We are en route to pick up his sister from preschool. I try to position myself in such a way as to block the sun from his eyes. He smiles his heaven-sent smile at me and, as babies and children do so well, he holds his gaze.
What does he see?
This moment: a crisp-yet-warm enough afternoon, early in winter. Autumn-colored leaves on the tree branches and bushes that whizz by at the periphery of his vision. In the center, his Babaâ€™s smiling face, ringed by the corona of the sun.
He continues to smile, sublime.
I think: remember this look on his face.
I think: there will be a time when his anger at me (disappointment; resentment) will be as bright as the sun behind me. As bright as his smile is now.
I think: without a doubt. But right now — in this moment — I am as close to perfect as I will ever be. (So are we both.)
4 thoughts on “Just a moment”
Why must you make me weep at my desk? Why?!
Are you sure it’s me and not incipient carpal tunnel syndrome? Are there fluorescent lights in there? Is the building sufficiently ventilated?
Also: oops. I think I tweaked it right after you commented. Mebbe you’ll cry now over my messing with a good thing. Sadly, that’s what comes of having only the wee hrs in which to write & post. I’m compelled to fix/smudge it up a bit in the light of day.
Nope…still teary. As a parent who struggles with my imperfections, I remember this feeling very well. Of course, I’ve already ruined both of my kids and they know my imperfections well…but I’ll hold out hope for you and yours. ha ha!
Yeah, well, sister, I think the cat’s already out of the bag over here. Horses have left the barn. Elvis has left the building. Etc. It’s just that the little guy’s still not able to track it yet. Woe betide me when he can. Or maybe I suppose parenthood betide me, and humanity. It’s a humbling gig, man.
However. I do want to submit Exhibit A, Your post today, as an example of the fruit your imperfections are bearing. Hmmm? What can you say to that?