Wednesday, July 21, 2010
michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 70)
anxieties abound... things, emotions change so rapidly, second by second. life is passing me by so quickly i would say, but that's not exactly what i want to say. i see three gray hairs on my head now (which makes me very happy, since i love gray hair). at the same time it's a reminder of me getting older. as i always speak of my hope of being that old lady with a house-full of cats; i become distressed (to afraid) that i'll never have children in my life.
newborns with their wide eyes...
i do want to get back to your eyes for a second. i had to run to go to the show last night but i really wanted to talk about your eyes. i'm struggling with what i want to say about them right now. because emotionally, i am cluttered, but not really. more than anything i feel emotionally overwhelmed. and i look at your eyes, these large, deep brown instruments of sadness; and i feel a sort of serenity right now. even though i see lifetimes of sorrow and fear through them (sometimes even screaming, 'don't hit me') through all of this i feel a wave of calmness lately.
ultimately, lifetimes are what i see through you. narratives one cannot even speak through voice. such beauty can only consist of boundless vibrations. i saw them, and it was as if they were the only thing that mattered.
even with your beauty, i see in a newborn's eyes what i have not seen in yours: sheer wonder. i have been meeting so many people who are new to the world, within days or weeks. their eyes are open so wide, exploring their surroundings, gauging to see if the outside world is as sympathetic to their experience. i so much as hear screams, cries and coos, i must run over and welcome the little one into this world, in my own way. some just stare, blinking; some smile and clap, drooling in a relaxed gesture. the variety of babies is so amazing, so fascinating... what's ultimately more fascinating is how, no matter how new one is to the world, the instinct to explore is immediately there. this aspect of life is so divine.
i have to do something. i have to be pro-active in my desire to have children in my life.
another day after work... i was walking down the street with the bicycle (and little michael in tow) and i was surrounded by several children (and an adult), who were fascinated with little michael. "that's michael!" they exclaimed. one of the smallest girls was especially curious, so i gave her little michael to hold. she played with the miniature bicycle wheels and mentioned how her scooter was pink. "and mine is green," i said.
another little girl asked, "do you remember me?" it was maureen, the little girl i had a conversation with a number of days ago.. she's such a sweet, smart and charming little girl (all of those kids are). i think she is going to the third grade in the fall. when i first met her she was discussing some of her favourite books. maureen couldn't remember my name, so i told her.
as i got on the bicycle to ride home i thought about how moments like that always make my day. and now i realize that this may be what i experience in order to honor my moments with children.
this is what i must remember. and what i also must remember is that these brief moments with you are always something to cherish, no matter how jumbled or anxious the situation is.