Tuesday, November 26, 2013


   When my son looks into me with those eyes, those chinky eyes as my not so P.C. grandmother calls them. They are chinky due to our Native American (damn dirty Choctaw) heritage, I see myself, my brother, mother, grandmother, great grandfather, and so on, and so on; as far back as there have been a people. Warriors, kings, peasants, and outlaws. On and on they go, my blood, my family’s blood, it stretches on through eons, through eternity, looking as far back as fathomable, and then some.
    One look, that is all it takes, he looks at me and I am bonded to him and to those before me, it is like lightening. Nay, more like roots boring down every time our gaze meets. Back to Doggardland, back to the first men, the caves; back to Eden. Spear points, swords, guns, universities, cathedrals, and all the ruins we will leave behind. Can you imagine every existential conundrum you ever had solved with one look? I can. Love/children are like a candle.

“Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.”
― Gautama Buddha

   Every time my child touches me, his little hands on my face, his little fingers wrapped around my little finger, there is a cellular connection that cannot quite be put into words. It is a flash into the future.
 Every single generation before me, 2 parents, 4 grandparents, 8 great grandparents, 16 g,great grandparents, 32 g,g,great grandparents, and so forth and so on have come together, accumulated, and working in concert to create the perfect being before me. Ten little fingers, ten little toes curl to my touch. If I am blessed he will have 2 children; I will have 2 grandchildren, 4 great grand children, 8 g,g,grandchildren and so on and so forth. Stretching out into eternity; forever and forever until the stars birth new ones.
      With one touch my future is laid out before me, and my restless soul is at ease. My eyes are like his because I am a mere vessel passing a legacy that he will step into. Can you imagine the sheer weight of such a gift? If you cannot you should take the time to meditate on it, because regardless of if you can, you carry it. 

No comments:

Post a Comment