Allister loved, more than almost anything, to look at a baby's wise and curious gaze. Their eyes wide and searching. For it was all so new.
That hands open. That these hands are attached to you even is funny. That you make them open and close. That sound can come from a mouth. That you can feel the noise in your throat. And one day soon, the sound will come out and someone will understand what you said. That they will laugh and you will laugh and you will keep saying "ball" in literally hundreds of sentences and phrases that contain a mix of "ball" and nonsensical syllables and sounds. That a giggle will have, as yet, no name. But, that it will make you giggle-will make others giggle.
And you will giggle. And, at a certain point of surprise, your mouth will drop open and a yawn will most suddenly be born. And what is that? And you will have no time to answer this because just as suddenly you will send a jab of pudge-padded baby fist to each eye. And when you wake, it will all be new again. Each time, there will be something more familiar. Is it your crib? Is it your hand? Is it your mother?
That some dance in music and some dance in numbers. That faces contort, wrinkle, and yawn. That hands cover a face and then open for it to reappear. And, it only makes sense, that as we grow, we want to know more. We look for the answers in all that. We struggle to understand, to gain a grip. And how much of that comes at the expense of the dancing? The vastness?
Mere months ago you were not here and now you are. That you were, at one point, swimming in placenta and now you breathe air. The placenta is clear and seemingly invisible now. But, still you're swimming. And perhaps a year ago you were nothing. You were a zygote. And this is not to be confused for an argument about when human life begins. That is, as they say, an argument for others. This is merely a plea that life should continue. Life should press through. That, in our searches, we should continue to see the giggle in everything-living, dead, animate, and inanimate.
For, how funny would it be if this were all a joke? That once we were not and now we are and perhaps we will not be soon. And there is more that we just do not understand. Oh, we will divide an atom into its millions of tiny baby atomic particles-and still they divide. Still there is more to find. And, of course, we search. Of course, we open and close our hands and grasp. But, is that not funny as well? That we do that?
That a giggle is a giggle and this world is where we live.
That hands open. That these hands are attached to you even is funny. That you make them open and close. That sound can come from a mouth. That you can feel the noise in your throat. And one day soon, the sound will come out and someone will understand what you said. That they will laugh and you will laugh and you will keep saying "ball" in literally hundreds of sentences and phrases that contain a mix of "ball" and nonsensical syllables and sounds. That a giggle will have, as yet, no name. But, that it will make you giggle-will make others giggle.
And you will giggle. And, at a certain point of surprise, your mouth will drop open and a yawn will most suddenly be born. And what is that? And you will have no time to answer this because just as suddenly you will send a jab of pudge-padded baby fist to each eye. And when you wake, it will all be new again. Each time, there will be something more familiar. Is it your crib? Is it your hand? Is it your mother?
That some dance in music and some dance in numbers. That faces contort, wrinkle, and yawn. That hands cover a face and then open for it to reappear. And, it only makes sense, that as we grow, we want to know more. We look for the answers in all that. We struggle to understand, to gain a grip. And how much of that comes at the expense of the dancing? The vastness?
Mere months ago you were not here and now you are. That you were, at one point, swimming in placenta and now you breathe air. The placenta is clear and seemingly invisible now. But, still you're swimming. And perhaps a year ago you were nothing. You were a zygote. And this is not to be confused for an argument about when human life begins. That is, as they say, an argument for others. This is merely a plea that life should continue. Life should press through. That, in our searches, we should continue to see the giggle in everything-living, dead, animate, and inanimate.
For, how funny would it be if this were all a joke? That once we were not and now we are and perhaps we will not be soon. And there is more that we just do not understand. Oh, we will divide an atom into its millions of tiny baby atomic particles-and still they divide. Still there is more to find. And, of course, we search. Of course, we open and close our hands and grasp. But, is that not funny as well? That we do that?
That a giggle is a giggle and this world is where we live.
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