Today I experienced one perfect moment. I was feeding our son in the bedroom, and something happened. As I sat there watching him - the curve of his tiny nose, the sweep of his eyelashes - I realized that he was looking away from me. Engrossed in the process of feeding and exploring with his hands, yet he was looking off into the distance. He was elsewhere. I watched those big brown eyes rove across a landscape I could not see, and I wondered where he was, what he saw.
All the familiar thoughts crowded in then - that he would not always be this small and dependent and cute. That things would not always be this innocent, this soft. I thought of all the things I want for him - a safe home, love, good food, friends, books, art, beauty - and of all the things I did not - lonliness, abuse, addiction, zits. I thought of all I could do to give him the first and help him through the second, and I wasn't afraid.
He came back to me then with the loud smack of his lips and the push away from my breast that says "I'm done". Those big shiny brown eyes recognized mama and my chubby little guy broke out a huge grin for me. He's too young to recognize the tears that shone in my eyes or hear the catch in my voice as I welcomed him back home. Sometimes I can't help it - the tears, the lump in my throat - when I realize the kind of love I feel for him, and how lucky I am to have it.