It all starts out so simple. But gets complicated in a hurry. She lies feeling safe. Warm. Secure. Cared for. Protected. Fed. Loved. In my arms. A death grip on the plastic bottle. Sucking hard and fast. Then dozing for many seconds. Then sucking hard again. Then dozing. Until bottle’s empty and her eyes are closed. So peaceful.
Yet only a few months ago. Looking sternly. With a furrowed brow. Studying and questioning this seeming stranger to her world. Already with a seriously discerning countenance. Is this someone who will hurt me or love me?
And only minutes before. She on the floor exploring the toy box three times her size. Most of its contents scattered about her. Me, encouraging new experiences with the different items. Her, traveling briskly on all fours. Standing at the window hunting chipmunks. And us having great fun communicating with our hands, sounds, eyes and expressions.
It all starts out so simple. She wants food, warmth, protection, and caring. She craves the stimulation and the freedom to engage. And soon, like her siblings, characteristics will begin to emerge and develop. As more awareness grows about her ability to not only flourish in her space. But control her space. Taping into the infinite array of ways and ranges of options on how to do that. Experimenting continuously to see what works and what doesn’t. What’s important. What’s not. What she likes. What she doesn’t.
It’s a lifelong journey. And I’ll miss not seeing how it all ends up. But I’ll so enjoy the part I’ll be around for. As did my grandparents and parents and all the generations before. Trying to conduct the orchestral evolution. Into many musical pieces that proudly harmonize, or not, the best in us all. Always, sometimes, accepting that there is no perfect performance. And the final arrangement and universe of notes is ultimately far beyond our control.
Whew. OK. That space got complicated in a hurry. Time for a hamburger, milkshake, and a few fries. Playing chase around the yard. And lots of hugs and tickles. Teasing silly. And conversations about how the world works when you’re three and six years old. I’m much happier with the simple parts. And keeping the complicated parts simple. Hugs and hamburgers. With homemade popsicles.
Lots of simple life on the Island too. A large hornets nest in the making. Free baseball tickets and three-ring binders. The quixotic search for an electrician and plumber. Reggae Eats and Sasanoa Beer. Conversations about new Maine license plate. And poetry readings.
Caution: Turtles laying eggs nearby. Wear bright lime or orange when walking beside the country roads. Fixing screen doors and garage doors. A celebration of life for our true friend Dee Dow at the Old Town Hall Sunday, June 23 from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. Her pictures reminding us even now how simple is beautiful and sounds the sweetest notes.
It starts out so simple. So I’ll end it there. And keep it as simple as a beautiful baby sleeping in my arms. With milk drool on her tiny chin. And her teeny tiny fingers firmly wrapped around my finger. With a belly full. Soon to be a diaper full. And that’s as complicated as it gets. And simply all that matters.
