Saturday, May 13, 2006
The Angel's Kiss
This is the spot where the heavens touch the Earth. Your grandma once called it an Angel’s Kiss and the name stuck, like the kiss. You are touched by the angels. How else could such a little man carry around such a big heart, such a generous spirit, such a kind soul, and guard it all with the power of Ninja? At 7 I think you’ve reached a point where you’ve drawn a circle around yourself. Those welcomed inside find a second circle, much harder to enter than the first. Actually, I think encounters there are more your stepping out than anyone else’s stepping in.
My problem is I just can’t resist you. I want to hold you close and soak up your goodness, your brilliance, your confidence. You, with your generous gigantic heart, want to stand back and share yourself with as many as you can.
Some might call you the problem child. Some might say its middle child syndrome. Some are put off by your independence. Sometimes I call you my challenge. I’m flattered to say it’s because you are so much like me. You go with your gut and often react before analyzing. The difference is Dad. The part of you that is your dad is your ability to react; analyze; then harness your passion with the analysis and react again. I have so much to learn from you.
You are a problem solver. You can fix most anything and have been able to since you were 2. I’ve seen you put yourself in the middle: You stick up for your smaller, quieter peers at school. When you were 4 you stood between your sister and an older kid who shook his fist at her at the park. You have zero tolerance for injustice.
“Why are there poor people?” you asked one day.
You accepted that things aren’t fair, but still wanted to fix it. “I’m going to give my stuff I don’t play with to poor kids.” You were 5.
When I first gazed upon your face your forehead was black and blue. “It’s because he came so hard and fast,” the nurse said. You pushed your way free and from that very moment you were your own man … and you had your father’s eyes.
Perhaps this is what makes me so weak where you’re concerned. Those dancing chameleon eyes … sometimes more hazel than brown, sometimes more gold than hazel … but always dancing, the left one just above the Angel’s Kiss.
Of course kids are kids and you never thought about your birthmark until Kindergarten. It was then your pattern with your peers emerged. You do your best to handle it on your own, only confiding in me occasionally, usually when you’re frustrated behind all hope. You squeeze me tight and sprinkle me with kisses and I know that you know you are loved for who you are. And I leave your room those nights knowing I, too, have been kissed by an angel.
you have a writing style that is at once universal and intimate. You are indeed blessed by your lovely middle child, and I hope he doesn't get this wonderful spirit kicked out of him as he journeys through life. He sounds charming and challenging (aren't these two qualities often found together?) and will absolutely be engaging to those lucky enough to recognise his unique qualities. As a teacher, I have always loved children like him, and have been blessed by their presence in my classroom over the years. Perhaps because there is an echo of another challenging middle child when I interact with them...
Great post. You are such a gifted writer.
-AM
This just sucked me right in! So beautifully said. So loving... I have a sweet boy, too. Not all boys are like that, you know. We are lucky. You should keep this for him to read someday. Really!
:)
<< Home
