Sunlight and shadows dance through the blinds, bouncing back and forth to an unpredictable rhythm. The baby watches in wonder from his playmat. He holds his toes in both hands and shapes himself into a half curl, a human roly-poly bug. He laughs and shrieks with delight. At four months, he is easy to please.
In the meantime, I find myself hooked on the screen checking for new communication, pictures and messages. I feel a void when nothing comes through, an emptiness that I might be disappearing into the ether and reaffirmed when something does via the Ding of the i-phone. It’s the modern-day dinner bell in a world of people hungry for instant connection.
The baby doesn’t have a smart phone to bother with emails or texts. His parents are his best friends and he doesn’t wear pants most days. His life is simple and his joy is pure.
He fills up on milk and love and connects to the present with each breath. He reminds me to live and disconnect, what the world might look like to fresh eyes, and that I am enough in being his mother. Perhaps, we all could benefit from stripping away the complexities of adulthood, if only for a moment, and refocusing on the sunlight and shadows.