Added: 11/27/2006 |
Medical ultrasonography explainedThe happiest day of my life was when I found out my son was on his way. It was an ultrasound that showed him to me clearly, curled into his little ball. I love my boy. He's a good kid, though he can be a handful at times, he's still mine, and I'll never forget that picture I saw at the beginning of the second trimester. It changed my life forever, and it introduced me to his.
I like watching the boy watching the tube oblivious and completely blissful to absolute Nirvana in undestroyed mind wandering from thought to thought like bouncing ship in bright blue sea without octopus or squid or any other nightmare creature.
“Dad how do you spell Yellow and let’s sing a song and let’s watch cartoons and let’s do --can I have popcorn and brownies and Kool-Aid and stay up late and remember yesterday and Lalalalalala…BARNEY IS NOT MEAN & NO HE DON’T EAT NO KIDS, mommy says you’re full of doo-doo…I’m telling Mommee…”
His brain staggers from scene to scene like an early morning drunk after a rock hard binge. He’s happy and ignorant of others stares and moral and ideals and concerns only caring about keeping this impenetrable happiness buzz intact. He takes his shirt off when hot and he lets his belly hang out without the slightest care of what anyone might think.
‘I’m gonna’ pat my belly rat-tat-tat and stick my tummy out and run run run run and run and leave my toys here and plant them over there and eat eat eat whatever I want because it tastes sooooo gooood and then when I get up we’re gonna’ get Chucky Chee…’ “Dad?” puzzled look “Are we gonna’ get P-eez-ah, P-eez-ah today…I want Pizza…I Want PIZZA…’
He raises his arms in tilt-a-whirl shrug and goes back to games forgetting where he was to start with and he gets up and he runs to the other room like a house cat stopping at second pile of toys. God what it was like to not worry about how you look or how uncomfortable you feel or what anyone else ever thinks about you.
Later hours and I’m drinking a beer as the game does its multi-billion dollar testosterone dance on the tube, all is quiet and serene but somehow empty. Toys strewn as foot obstacles and vacant hollow temples left in homage to the boy’s wake as I sit quietly, waiting for noisy cartoon breakfast morning, but I, I cannot wait. Tiptoeing in with shadow’s cast amidst pillow dreams, I see the smile on his face and that makes me smile.
That’s what it’s like to find heaven or Nirvana or hell or Mecca or whatever your peccadillo is. It’s not the obliviousness or the beauty or the simplicity of the joy of live and let live, it’s all that plus whatever it is that can make you sleep like the boy, with no remorse, whatever it takes to make you not sweat about waking up.
Since I can no longer accomplish bliss I just watch him do it effortlessly in his sleep. I hope he never loses his ability to sleep. I hope.
Article comments:
No comments for this article yet. Post your comment now!
