Walk 1: Along the River

My son is nearly 11 months old. He is a curious little creature, filled with boundless energy. Boundless, until he finds its end. He is one of those toddlers who cries every time he starts to feel sleep demanding his attention. He can't be bothered to sleep. There is too much to see and do, to touch and feel, and above all, too much to taste.

I am slightly amazed at his energy, considering both his father and I are expert sleepers. If we has the means, we could happily spend an entire week entwined under the covers. Peatuk only has about five minutes of sweet cuddles in him before he must get up and start making his rounds of the house, making sure everything is in its place, which is to say, not where mommy wants it.

Even when he is asleep, he moves. He flips, crawls, and burrows. Once, he even stood up, holding onto the headboard, completely asleep.

The only time he is really calm is when he is in his carrier, smooshed up close to my breast, with nothing but his nose and chin poking out. Then, he lets his eyes get heavy without resistance and he falls into a contented trance as the world passes him by.

This morning, I strapped him to me and we took a walk through the center of town, along the river. Before we left, he was clawing at my chest, his sharp little claws catching on the acne that is finally returning as my post-pregnancy hormones stabilize, making me bleed. But as soon as we exited the building, he tucked himself into me and calmed himself.

Last night it snowed, and when we went outside, we met a muted world, blanketed in white. It isn't the first time he has seen snow, but it is the first time he has seen it thick and new- an unbroken white as opposed to lines of grey and slushy puddles. It was deep enough to thoroughly cover everything that didn't move and created sharp lines against the streets and buildings.

We walked down to the river and he was silent, but his eyes remained fully open and his brows were furrowed in that adorable expression that will someday grow into confusion.

When we came onto the main boulevard, hugging the river, the sun was shining brilliantly, creating a dazzling illusion of warmth. I turned him so he could look at the glittering water and he scrunched up his face and let out one of his soft grunts of pleasure that is the beginning of a laugh.

We crossed a bridge and I stood in the center, looking down at the river. It seemed to flow without purpose, the currents rushing in every direction to avoid the snow-covered rocks. I suffered the slightest twinge of vertigo as I leaned over the railing, and I gripped my son tightly to me, but he seemed oblivious to our height or the motion below him. He assessed the situation calmly, accepting everything he saw as inevitable truth.

These days, the world simply is to him. He has not recognized the forces of resistance and manipulation. He hasn't discovered these powers within himself, and so he is infinitely accepting. Wind and water simply are, and he doesn't try to capture them in individual moments. He lets them flow over him, and for that, he is beautiful, magical, and wiser than I am.