By Laura Moore

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At first, we couldn't figure out what he was doing. 

Each time we'd put him down, he'd flip onto his stomach regardless of how difficult it was to turn, which toys were in the way, or how impractical such an act might be in those precious seconds between diapers. And steadying himself on the outer-most part of his belly, he'd quickly locate his center of balance, lift his legs, and spread his arms.

"Are you swimming?" I would ask in ernest, trying my best to hop inside his six-month old brain and view the world through his eyes. Being the chatter he is, of course, he'd answer with a series of haas, ahhhs and baahs and a few high pitched yells for good measure.

"Ohhh, you're going to love swim lessons," I'd say to him in a friendly, high pitched voice. He'd smile his trademark smile in response--the one that turns my heart to melted butter--and then he'd return to his task: wobbling around like a top, his feet either clipping the foam arms of the Safari Gym, or catching the edge of my knee, or spinning around enough to cause him to collide face first into the broadside of our dog. 

This continued for a few days, but as I watched him closer, I began to doubt my initial read. His actions didn't really look like swimming anymore; they looked more like floating or scooting. Maybe this is just an early effort to learn how to crawl, I thought to myself. And I let it go. 

But later that evening, when my husband came home from work, I watched him pick up our baby boy and send him sailing through the kitchen. Up and down, weaving around in patterns, the little guy canvased the air with his arms outstretched, his legs arched, his mouth agape and his eyes peeled wide.  And seeing him like that--seeing him actively engaged in flight--I realized exactly what he was trying to do all of those minutes on the ground: he was trying to fly.

Day in and day out, he keeps trying: working up a sweat, ignoring his other toys, holding up his body like Superman.  And despite any obstacle in his way, the entire time he endeavors to lift his body, he maintains unflappable focus: pinching his lips, slanting his eyes, bracing himself for the moment when the earth will inevitably fall beneath him, and he will rise up and sail through the air like a seagull skimming the ridge of the sky. He wills his flight with everything he has in the deepest boughs of his imagination, and I have grown drunk drinking in every possible moment of his beautifully pure determination to make the impossible happen.

He falls asleep with his wings outstretched, he sends them outward the moment he wakes up, and I have no doubt he uses them throughout the entirety of his dreams. Every night when his father comes home and lifts him up, he emanates a sort of joy I have never before seen in anyone: squeals fill the room, drool pools on the floor and his eyeballs push through the slits in his face. 

"One, two," my husband begins, and our little guy spreads his arms. His entire body rises with a nearly transcendental jolt of anticipation, and his unwavering faith is virtually palpable, a faith that trusts the number three will send him up high, where the air breaks across his face, and tickles his tummy, as he climbs and falls, and climbs and falls through every corridor of our house.

As soon as he comes back down to the floor, he wobbles on his belly again: holding his arms parallel to the ground, lifting his chest with every ounce energy bustling in his body. When that doesn't work, he tries to stretch his neck upward, straightening his arms and turning his eyes to the ceiling. Still grounded, he falls downward again, arching his back, lifting his legs, sending his arms out, this time, at right angles. And when that, too, fails to lift him from the floor, he begins moving his wings up and down just enough to spin into a spiraling whirl.  This goes on and on until one of us picks him up and rockets him through the air. 

It never gets old, and he never stops believing.

Each time I watch him, I yearn to capture his joy. I wish I could tap into his vivid imagination. I wish I could siphon out just a small bit of his innocence and pour it into jars, so that when he gets older, and the practical word edges it out of him, we will still have some saved up in the cupboard, we will still be able to make him squeal with delight, to push out the rest of the world so he can revel in the sheer ecstasy of small pleasures. 

I wish I had those jars, so even when he realizes he can't lift himself off of the ground--even when he knows it is impossible for his arms to send him flying around the world--he might still have enough innocence to believe in magic, enough innocence to keep trying regardless of how high the sky might seem, enough innocence to know, deep within him, that he does possess the strength to rise.


 


Comments

grandma
07/23/2014 8:52am

Amazing! I sure hope you appreciate your gift of love and the expression of your thoughts in writing. It truly is a gift not everyone is lucky enough to have.
Love Always,
Jan

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Grammy
07/23/2014 9:24am

Your description are so real that I can picture our little guy perfectly. Thank you

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Ginger Bell
07/23/2014 10:27am

I so enjoyed your piece.It sent me back and sends me forward to the next time I see Dylan.
Don't worry your cupboard will be filled with wonderment and belief for awhile.Sadly it does slowly leave.
Savour every precious moment you are there to bathe in all that imagination and magic.I was amazed just to watch them learn.To see when the lightbulb went off.Such joy I had watching them grow. Enjoy...Enjoy..Enjoy..

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07/23/2014 1:13pm

Thank you, Grandmas :) And thank you, Mrs. Bell. I truly appreciate you taking the time to read my thoughts and to share yours. xoxo.

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UNCLE A
07/23/2014 5:32pm

He obviously is an optimist! God bless the little guy! He sounds like he may just be the next Superman...(Or an entrepreneur)! keep writing...he will learn to keep thinking he can fly as long as you and jared keep showing him anything is possible...

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Laura Moore
02/10/2015 12:01pm

Andy, I just saw this. Sorry for my late reply. Thank you :) We will keep trying to show him, but he's a lucky guy to have you as his role model too!

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This is very well article is related to the children guidance for built up the carrier. All the children is need guidance of teacher and parents for through out for entire life. Mostly children are chose the wrong field and then suffering form stress.

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This page looks like an amalgamation of all kinds of feelings and emotions possessed by all the human beings on not all but some of the time. The story of the mother telling about her son was interesting to read.

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