I am thirty. In the last 3 decades of my life, there have been worthy moments of academic achievements and professional achievements. These moments are important. Yes. But never have I felt the need to relive these moments for the pure joy of being present when it happened. Is this modesty? Not really. I was and still am proud of my achievements.
Few days back, my little boy ran up to me excited, and said “Un, thoo, thee, phou, phi, sickth, sah, eeth, nah, tee” and smiled. I don’t recall if it was smile or the innocence; the accent (mazhalai) or the excitement; I hugged him tight and said “wow that’s wonderful”.
My son got on with running around the whole house screaming one to ten and many other (oft unintelligible) words. I was equally happy and excited. The child in me rose to the occasion as I followed him from one room to another repeating (read braying) his words. Sour from screaming and content with the running, we both plopped onto the bed and giggled.
I was proud as hell!
All night long I kept reliving those moments in my head wanting it to never end. It has been about a week since, yet, when I close my eyes, I can still picture him in his blue shorts running up to me, excited to narrate his very first encounter with numbers.
How I wish kids never grow up. Alas, if they didn’t, how would I ever encounter many such wonderful moments.
Lesson 101: Unconditional love results in pride so high that the twinkle never disappears.