Smelling the roses

In so many ways, Varun is beginning to teach me stuff. He isn't two yet and yet from him my restless self has gained so much, especially in the last few tough weeks. In these last weeks of ill-health when all else seemed bleak and I was mentally pacing up and down (mostly down) - he taught me to slow down, and take it easy.

I take him down for a walk most every afternoon now that the winter sun is so balmy and the breeze so cool. I did it in the evenings earlier too, but then the hurried me (though I have no idea what I was so hurried about) never just enjoyed being with him, never just enjoyed the hour.

Now, when the two of us go down for our daily walk, Varun goes off on his little exploration expeditions - stopping to touch the side lights on a car parked near the garden, or chasing behind two little sparrows or pigeons and watching them fly to their next sitting spot if he ventured too close, or stand on a manhole and wonder and look questioningly at me, or come back inside the colony through the side gate and want to make sure the huge gate is closed behind him (even though it is always open - so, the closing ceremony is watched by the guard with much amusement), or point to the trees when asked where they are and smile, or have this absolute urge to go jumping over the sleeping stray dogs whom he calls "boo, boo", or walk barefoot on the warm grass in the garden and really feel it by digging his feet in and enjoying it.

Everything that he does on this our daily venture is so full of the moment. I love it. I love going with him. I love it when he walks a few paces alone, ventures a little further away from me and then comes by my side and offers his hand up for me to hold. Today, I just lived the hour with no other thoughts of hurrying back up to do this or that. I just let it be. I wasn't worried he would be hungry. I wasn't worried I had to do something else. And I had such peace. Such as I have never felt before. Such as it helped heal an ailing body and a starved mind.