Which is why I share them now, because they make me feel like it's not hard to be doted upon or vulnerable.
These photos remind me that it often happens that, through circumstance, one person gets to the be the solid boat or the steady airplane and another person gets to be the kid that latches on and tumbles upside down with joy, fearing the ground but never really imagining she or he will hit it.
Tonight as I (try not to) reflect too much on the danger of lips (including but also beyond the tactile: words, specifically), I share these photos of my grandnieces and I making awkward, happy faces last week -- all but one taken by a person no taller than my waist who cannot pronounce the letter combination th and who endlessly begged to use my camera.
Do I look like I'm hiding here to you?
That my internal/external body has armored itself with a series of mistakes, not always mine but sometimes definitely mine?
I don't have a far-fetched idolization of a never-achieved idyllic childhood.
I do have a somewhat far-fetched idolization of an often-achieved idyllic interaction with the children in my family.
It makes me feel like I'm not a fortress. I can't figure out which feeling takes precedence.
1 comment:
The great thing about kids is that you get to see the world through their eyes and sometimes get to be a kid yourself again with them. A good childhood is where the child feels loved and safe (and it amazes me how often adults come up short on those criteria). Your grandnieces obviously love and feel loved by you, and trust you, and you are obviously giving them wonderful times and memories.
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