I Thought It’s My Job To Show You The World
Once upon a time, you were your child’s whole world. Tucked in your belly, he felt cuddled and loved. You brought him with tears and joy to this Earth. There you stood, thinking there’s so much he’ll learn.
You were eager to teach your child everything you know, make him wonder about life and all. You wanted him to see the light, the good, and the love, early on, before the gray will shatter his world.
Poor you, how could you be so wrong?
For you get the child that you need to grow, and to see the world for what it is, not what you know.
That baby grew and started to babble. He came to see things and colors and shadows. His tiny fingers began to point out, details so worthy of wonder that you couldn’t grasp.
This beautiful baby you stare at in awe will certainly give you a whole new glow.
Make no mistake, you’re his shining star. Actually, no, the one who scattered all stars.
Yet he’s looking at the sky, he’s looking at the earth, he’s the one showing you how to get lost — in the stillness of a moment, in the beauty of silk webs, in the depth of a crack in the wall or the curb of a ball.
He’s pulling your hair and your heart strings along, showing you how to find new strengths in flaws — in the desperate long sleepless nights, in the early sunrises you feel you’ll collapse, in those moments you want to remove yourself from the burning hug that his small arms desperately plug.
You used to think it’s your job to show him the world. In reality, it’s the other way ‘round. When this strikes you with clarity, you’re astounded, you’re wowed and filled with remorse, for those many times. The times when you couldn’t come close and meet his eyes. You would have seen the world as it was.
But it’s never too late, and you’re never wrong if you look him in the eyes and don’t shush him along.
Thank you for making it to the end! I’ve got more stories like this one if you want to peek: