It's more than lessons learned, manners, etiquette. It's confidence, self-awareness, comfort in one's own skin. This begins here, begins now. Began yesterday. Trial and error, or should I say Trials and Errors, because let's be honest: some days feel shameful and as much as I'd like to forget certain things happened at all, I need the memory to remind me.
They are worthy. Worthy of everything I have in me and more; worthy of everything everyone has. I'd like to think it's all me, but every single person has an impact and good or bad, it's formative. It's important, needed, expansive. I can be the one to help interpret, help them see the value in any situation. But I can't live it for them without hampering. Hurt will happen and it must.
They are laughter and tears, crying, screaming, squealing, lilting notes of bubbling giggles that start in their throats and end in mine. Squirming, twisting, running, falling, jumping, kicking and hitting. Dancing, their feet and bodies moving to their own rhythmic, rhyming soundtrack condensed from countless stories and songs, both made up and written down. Always movement, always sound.
They are softness. Smooth, like your fingers are touching nothing at all. Hair lifting in the slightest breeze, eyelashes longer than mine will ever be. Rounded edges, rounded bellies, fuzzy cheeks and pudgy toes. Softness, sweetness, snotty noses.
I am better than I ever imagined I was and I've learned most of that from them.
They are better than me. And I'm pretty great, but they are better.
Yes. You try to pass whatever goodness and power you have on to your children. It works and the experience is worth it and/but the old guy is grateful that the next generation can run with that torch. Good work and good thoughts.
ReplyDeleteFantastic, SJ. Absolutely fantastic.
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