Wednesday, January 11, 2012
"I am full of love."
Amma, do you know why I love you so much?
This while being perched on my hips, in one of those moments where you can't get enough of cuddling your littlest one. The question by itself was a statement, which by itself gave me immense joy to hear. So is it any wonder that I held my breath while waiting for him to reply?
Because I am full of love.
Something about those choice of words is a miracle. Something about the exact order of stringing them is supremely beautiful. And true. He IS full of love. And always has been. And the manners in which he expresses that love is what makes our days and nights with him such a memory. The kind of memory which you will not remember in particulars, but as a vapour of feeling, always swirling around you. Its hard to remember the finite details, because being with him means being in the moment. And that's why writing about him has always been so hard. How do you pin words to define a moment that was exquisitely lived and experienced, when it is already past? You don't. You just enjoy it, and carry that swirling vapour of memory with you.
He has this peculiar thing with his father. At night and many times during the day, he needs the comfort of rubbing his father's cheeks, just to feel the pots, read 'spots' for the stubble. It has this very reassuring effect on him, and almost feels like a sweet massage. I have tried to have this shifted to me no end, but he argues that since I have no pots, I don't get the pleasure. But he will still cuddle up to me in other ways. And any way is a bliss when it comes to him.
He will be the first one to rush to the scene when one of us has incurred a boo-boo and he will enquire even days afterwards about the state and the healing of it. He will remember when we ourselves have forgotten, and it becomes easy to feign some lingering hurt over it, just to feel the waves of his concern.
After a long Christmas break and on the first day back at school, in answer to the question...what did you do over the holidays?...he will be the one to tell his teacher, I had a lot of fun, but in the middle of it, I remembered school and I missed you Uma Aunty. And she will laugh heartily at all the words, because she known only too well his tendency to sweeten and use them well, but she can't help but feel the happiness of that effort made on his part. And when she narrates it to me, her enjoyment of the whole charade is obvious.
He is the one that likes to copy his brother in whatever he does, and even in the words he speaks sometimes, but when there comes an opportunity to put pen to paper and scribble a few words, this is what he chooses to write. As his first complete sentence. There is a grammar issue, and a missing period at the end, but the meaning is far from lost.
And the words he spoke to me, in answer to the question that he himself asked, are already a full and complete sentence, with a beginning and an end, and everything in the middle is love.