I suppose, this seems common place. Most parents think their children are beautiful. I just never expected to feel this so intensely. At times, it as if I am lifted out of myself and looking afar at these creatures. At these moments, I realize they are not mine. I don't own them, can't own, don't want to own them. These are the glimpses of their absolute alieness from me. And yet due to the paradoxical nature of life, they are mine. I may not own them but I have a sacred responsibility to them. It still leaves me stunned that I somehow produced these creatures....that from me came such beauty.
This all comes about from watching Umberto play the other day. He was running away from me, and I called to him to tell him we had to leave soon. He stopped running, his body still vibrating with movement, half turned toward me, sulky and defiant. I was silent for a moment lost in the sheer gorgeousness of my own child. I smiled, and his sulky pout broke into a smile that left me a bit wounded.