Not yet fifteen months old and he can arrange a small frying pan, a plastic bottle of Mentos Gum and a lemon in a pleasing display of balance. He gets a joke. Put the necklace on the dog and he cracks up. Imitate the smallest dog crying to get into the room and he imitates you imitating the dog and he laughs. He insists on eating in the dining room, even if it's just last night's pizza. He wants to sit in the high chair because that is how it is done.
When I go into another room and he is with his grandfather and then I come back he says, "Hey!" And he holds his arms out like maybe he thought I was gone forever but no, here I am, back again and what a miracle!
What a miracle. All of it. The way it's been set up so that a child's grandparents love him more than life itself and in that love of that baby, they know even more love for each other, thus ensuring a more stable place for the child to grow up in.
That and the way the rain falls and the night-insects whirrr and the butter mixes with the milk and the flour to become a sauce and the nutmeg and the lemon and the egg yolk add to it all and the night falls and the electrons sing and the universe whirls itself around in endless space: eternity and here I am and I am at a loss for the words because there are no words for the infinite mysteries, the infinite love, the infinite light of it all.
Not much else to say.