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This is a poetic take on the daily travails of new mothers, and how much one can learn from just observing your own children.
It felt like a day that should be forgotten, quickly.
Nothing made sense.
I looked at a wall, and upon this vast canvas I painted and projected all my contemplation.
Then suddenly you crawled into my lap. I hugged you and I breathed in your tiny soft curls.
I will never forget that smell.
It was a heady mixture of baby powder, happiness, innocence, trust, joy and peace.
It carried me away on a cloud.
I was weightless, drifting, with your tiny trusting fingers wrapped around mine.
You gurgled and burped. This amused you so much that you toppled over laughing.
When was the last time I had embarrassed and entertained myself this way?
Back on the ground you crawled over everything that came your way, never losing that smile.
I wish I had thought of your resolve and tenacity every time I’ve needed those recently.
When you wrapped your tiny finger around mine, I knew I had to trust in my instincts as well.
Whether you fall or fail, you’re always back on your feet again, then why should it be any different for me?
When you surrender yourself to me, I feel as if I can rely on my decisions with the same abandon.
For all the fancy schools and colleges and reams of knowledge spilling out of books.
Some of life’s simplest lessons can be carried in the tiniest hands, you just need to know where to look.
Image source: pixabay
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Richa started her writing journey as a child, scribbling away poems and stories for her
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