The appeal “If you don’t become like little children…!” takes on a whole new meaning when observing a little human like my daughter.
When I nurse her, she wraps her tiny fingers around my thumb, holding it tight, not wasting the slightest thought on letting go. When we lie down next to each other, she throws her little feet and legs into my lap, on my legs, annexing them. It’s the most delightful occupation by a “foreign” entity. 😉
And then she rests her hands on my chest, as if she claims the whole thing. Her little body is curled up onto mine as much as is spatially possible. The whole moment is stripped of formality. There is no politeness whatsoever. No asking whether I still have other plans for the following minutes, whether I’m comfortable lying like that, whether she may occupy me as she does, or whether I like any of it.
No! Politeness is not part of the scene. Neither is consideration, tact, or pretense.
This moment is full, however, of the most innocent desire, fully understood by my child as entirely reciprocated by me. It’s dense of unbridled need, without shame or excuses. It’s heavily breathing the wish for closeness and comfort. This moment feels eternal in its beauty, character, and cosmic meaning…
… a human’s essence condensed into the 20-minute nursing of an infant.
Sempre caro mi fu... 