Quiet mornings

The house is still quiet at 8:30 in the morning. S is away. The kids are sleeping. I should wake them and give them their breakfast but their completely abandoned repose stops me. I smile at the sight my two children make as they lie sprawled on their beds lost in their dreams and far away from my world. 

One child looks like the sun – so bright and beautiful it hurts to look at him. Not a spot mars the angelic perfection of his face. But every time I see him, the smile on my face has an inherent sadness that I shall probably never overcome. He has a long way to go to – every day is such a struggle for him – if I could take away all the things that confuse him, hurt him, scare him, I would a thousand times over. The one thing I would never change about my son is his ability to love and be generous. He will share his every possession. He would even go hungry if his last bit of bread will feed someone else. I learn the lessons of the heart from my son. His lips are mine, so is the chin – he looks more like me than his father. His excellent memory and ability to give more love than he receives are also from me. But his quiet nature, intense focus and facility with technology are from his father. And his father is his world for him – I am required to be there of course but his father is his star always. 

The other one is quite the opposite - all arms and legs with a tiny face and perfectly proportioned symmetrical features. She will be stunning when she grows into her own – for now her personality is bigger than her physical self. This is the child that fills me with ceaseless wonder. Her clarity of thought and logic, her ability to think differently from everyone, her capacity for concentration and independent initiative – they are all rare qualities indeed. Some of them she gets from me and some from her father. It is a genuine pleasure to be able to see oneself in one’s child – her very phrases echo my words – her raised eyebrow and intolerance for bad jokes, her talkativeness, her love of reading, her too easily broken heart – she gets it all from me. The logic and focus are her father’s - so is the spreading joy on her face when she sees a loved one, the lack of all artifice, the ability to smile completely and without sadness in her eyes. What a curious mixture of parents is the child!

I am early today – I have done all my chores, finished my walk and watered and weeded the lawns to the backdrop of my favourite Malayalam songs. Now I must wake the twosome and start the day in earnest. Sometimes utter quiet has a more healing effect on the soul than any words you come up with. Sometimes spending a morning with oneself is the best way to start the day…