Eyes Like Sky

How do you see the world with new eyes when your eyes are 28 years old? I know, I know, 28 is young in a life-span kind of way. But 28 years is nearly 10,000 days. That’s 10,000 days my eyes have watched come and go, enough days for a lot of really amazing things to become routine, old news. This, to me, is very sad.

 I’m finding, though, that in this quest to see things anew, it really helps to have a nearly-two-year-old around. Especially a little blonde-haired, blue-eyed one that I adore. Her name is Sky, and she is the reason I have not posted on this little blog in so long. Sky has the freshest of fresh eyes. She is alive with delight at everything around her and the continual gifts the universe seems to throw graciously in her lap.

 Reason #1 for Sky that the world is a place of endless wonder: Someone has completely and with abandon covered the place in rocks, sticks, and pine cones. They are literally everywhere. Step outside your front door and there’s probably a little rock lying on your doormat. If not a rock, then an interesting piece of fuzz or a gum wrapper. All of these are equally wonderful to her, and we have spent a good amount of time in the last few months collecting a small treasure trove of underrated pieces of the world. Why are these things so magnificent to her? Because they’re smooth, rough, scaly? Because they’re just the right size for her tiny hands? Because they’re abundant and free? I haven’t the faintest. All I know is that for her they are the equivalent of expensive jewelry or jet skis or fancy new patios for other people.

 So you can imagine how blissful a walk around the block on a sunny day can be for her. Yesterday, we took such a walk, and she could not take more than a few steps without crouching down to pick up a chunk of broken gravel or examine a tulip bud or run her finger down the crack in the sidewalk and feel the mud there. Slowly, she would collect enough little treasures that her hands were full, and then she’d give them to me so she could find more. When a stray cat meandered through a yard next to us, Sky nearly burst with her excitement about the “Neow” and almost followed it into a neighboring garage. When the wind sent a piece of newspaper tumbling down the street past us, she couldn’t have been more transfixed. She stopped abruptly, said “Oh no!” under her breath, and stared as the newspaper tossed about and eventually collided with a car coming the other way. This walk and its wonders absorbed her fully.

 What a brain to be in, a brain for which everything is a source of discovery and knowledge. As far as Sky is concerned, life is a lot like the rabbit hole was for Alice, all mystery and surprise. Based on what she’s seen so far, almost anything is possible; the scientific rules and limits have not yet been set. Thus, something as simple as a rock is interesting and important and able to inspire awe.

 I want to get back to this. Maybe not to getting excited over a pinecone, but to being impressed by the beauty of things, ordinary things. I want to develop that heightened sensitivity to what is constantly happening around me that I am often too busy to notice. And so, with this goal in mind, here is Beautiful Thing about the World #1: A Toddler’s Brain. (Also, sticks, rocks, and pine cones.)