Sunday, November 28, 2004

Two Months

There are times now when I look at him and I realize that he can see me. Really see me. I know now that these are the moments in life that I’ve always longed for. The moments that I’ve heard in songs but didn’t understand. The moments those who’ve come before have warned me of, but I was too ignorant to hear what they were trying to say. These are moments of intense feelings that bring tears to my eyes simply because my heart can no longer hold them. I feel like the most fortunate person alive simply because I now have two sets of eyes I can look into that make me feel this way. Christina, Lucas and I have become a family, a beautiful growing vibrant togetherness that makes life worth living. I look into his eyes and have found one more reason to appreciate the coming of dawn because I know that the day will reward me with another new miracle. He’ll tilt his head awkwardly and hold it steady, or he’ll smile and giggle when he sees that Christina and I are laughing at him, or he’ll roll over...maybe tomorrow he’ll roll over. Simple things bring me so much joy, such an important lesson to learn in life. His presence makes me feel like I’ve learned nothing and I have an eternity to learn everything. He makes me understand that he isn’t the only infant in the house.

He’s become so aware of his surroundings. His eyes dart from one thing to the next with eager determination. He loves to sit on your chest and watch you until a smile fills his face. He hates being the only person in the room. What will turn out to be his very favorite oldest toy is a crazy apple that hangs in his crib. It’s the first thing he’s really played with. I wonder if he likes the music that I constantly play? Maybe it’s touching the core of him so that many years from now he might hear the beauty that I hear and remember me. When he sleeps on his back he sleeps with his arms and legs outstretched like he’s trying to grab hold of that deep sunken place with every ounce of his soul, but he doesn’t like to sleep on his back that much. Maybe it’s too tiring. Maybe when he sleeps on his belly he doesn’t have to work so hard to regenerate. There’s so much that I don’t know and so much that I probably will never know, but that doesn’t stop me from looking at him all the time.

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