Babies

My thoughts have turned to babies lately. I wanted to write about babies, babies new, the world's babies, but every time I tried I got maudlin. I got maudlin thinking about Cara and her miscarriage, I got maudlin thinking about all the babies in our family, I got maudlin thinking about Connor, I got maudlin thinking about my babies both dead and alive. MAUDLIN. But I'm writing anyway.

I watched Connor, and helped Connor, spend a good portion of our play date concentrating on his little down vest. Studying exactly how it goes on, studying exactly how it comes off, how he needed to get the two sides together with the zipper. He knew the zipper was an important element but he just couldn't quite make it work. It was a wonder watching him, and helping him, work at mastering a down vest, the intensity, the concentration, the thoughtfulness, the pride and joy.

I watched my friend's granddaughter concentrate on turning the pages of a story book. Her little brow furrowed, almost sweating, she was concentrating so hard on working her little fingers and mind. It was a wonder watching her work at mastering that one page at a time bit.

This is a miracle, a miracle unfolding in our presence. An ordinary everyday miracle but a miracle none the less. How babies are born and master the world one bit at a time. One step, spoon, zipper, page, vest, kiss at a time. I think we are born to master our world.

Life as it could be lived, our miracle, our multiple miracles, "They would be beautiful except there are so many of them."

There are books to read
Kayaks to paddle
Friends to find
Nachos to eat
Balls to hit
Babies to birth
the thrill of existence, the ecstasy of breathing, of a beating heart is all part of our miracle of life.

The miracle is that we thrive, love, grow, consume, mate, aspire. The tragedy is to lose that miracle. The pure joy of living is replaced by the clay on our wheels of existence.

We go from miracle, to wonder, to mundane all in one life.