… and then a couple of days went by like sparklers on the fourth of july. Kisses in the morning, tickling in the afternoon, laughter, running errands, making visual lists of things to do so my son can follow along and tick them off as we get them done, easy trips to the bathroom, tears of frustration over the difficulty of Nintendo DS, sitting on my lap, discussing the dubious texture of strawberries when they get soft, the confusion of missing his mother, but being so happy not to be missing me anymore. For a moment he was struck with the idea that he is more accustomed to missing me, and this business of missing his mommy is new, and different. We hugged and were relieved to find understanding. The 2,800 mile span between us when we are apart, and between he and his mother when we are together is a complex affair to negotiate for a six year old boy. Seeking his place in the universe, wanting to be sure of his parents, and sure of himself. One thing is clear: I have never been a huge fan of Christmas, Christmas music, or the general consumer delights of the holidays… but the contagious sound of my delightful little man’s singing voice, his unselfconscious belting out of ‘jingle bells,’ ‘deck the halls,’ and ’santa clause is coming to town’ has got me singing along against my will, and delighted with every single christmas tree, string of lights, and ornament I see. I see the world through my son’s eyes, and it’s a hopeful, beautiful, and deeply zen place to be. He has shared with me his love of the moment, the crack in the sidewalk, the little flower growing curiously in the corner of the cement retaining wall. I already have this eye, we share so much in terms of our facial expressions, gestures, and weirdo tendencies, but it is the joy and the presence of each and every moment which leaves me in complete awe and wonder of his heart, his mind, and the way he sees the world as it comes, without filters.
I am wrapped up in the beautiful paper of unconditional love, acceptance, connection, and the pure joy of fatherhood (with a very pretty bow on top.)
One Comment
Permalink
I know what you mean about sweet little voices singing that xmas music. My nieces were adorable, and wanted to hold hands and sing those silly songs, so how could I refuse? How do I know all the words, and was I really smiling while singing??? Yes I was.
What fun it was!
I embraced the wild unhindered energy of my youngest niece, and and enjoyed the highly creative sensitive sensibility of my oldest. Both of them are pieces of me, and I could relate to them equally with love and admiration.
I love the innocence, curiosity and beauty of small children.