Today I knelt in front of the high chair and looked at our Christmas tree as it appeared just beyond the top of Jake’s head while he was eating. I liked the view. Because first I saw his big eyes and blond curls and then the Christmas lights that framed them.
When I was pregnant with my eldest I noticed my senses were heightened. I hadn’t read that part of the book yet to know that was scientific. I only knew that the world looked and felt and smelled and sounded richer now that I knew I would be guiding a new little soul through it.
I like to take pictures of the boys on the little step that leads from our dining room to our glorified back porch. In each of the pictures I can vaguely see our house stretched out behind them. In these photos I no longer notice the nails that stick up too far out of the hardwood floor, or the finger smudges on what should be crisp gray paint or the part of the living room that has to be hidden by a rug because we’ve torn up the hearth and not replaced it with new flooring. The whole thing is completely transformed and glorified as it fades into simply the background for their childhood.
I like the perspective my children have given me on the world. It’s not that I see it through their eyes. But I see it better now that they are in it. I think about the way it appears around them, and I like the view just beyond their heads.