Photo credit: Simon Lieschke
Now that I’m a father, I love it when I get to see babies on the bus. It reminds me of when my daughter was that age. Those times were tough, but the sweet times we had then really stand out for me now as some of the best. To quote Shihad, “for all things good there’s a sacrifice.”
Riding home from work the other day a grandmother and mother got on the bus with a baby, couldn’t have been older than 5 months. Probably more like 3. He was the cutest baby I’ve seen in a while. His parents were both quiet, chatting briefly to each other before relaxing into their seats in silent reverie, and he was definitely his mother’s child. Quiet, sleepy even.
What got me were his eyes! They were so sweet and amazing that I couldn’t help but smile. Waving seemed crass so I refrained. Those eyes were deep brown, almost black. Wide, curious, relaxed; ready for sleep.
I feel as though I can let down my guard when a baby looks at me, my soul is on display, so why hide it? A baby can see through any facade because he completely ignores pretension. Sounds very zen, I know, but it feels true to me, and it’s reenforced every time I see a child.
Babies are mirrors.
