Love. How easily we toss the word around. “I love your hairstyle.” “I am in love with that lipstick.” “I love having lunch at the village bistro.” For the last nine months though, ‘love’ for me has taken a detour and come to rest fair and square on the dainty shoulders of my little girl.
By coming into my life, my little girl has brought me back to life. When I see her marvel at the leaves swaying with the wind, the iridescence of cobwebs in the mornings, a bee hitting the window, when I see her marvel at things so ‘ordinary’ that I had stopped noticing them altogether, I watch the world with new eyes and feel a surge of unadulterated love rise and envelop me.
My baby breaks into a smile when she notices the cat lazily stretch itself and I tingle with goosebumps knowing it is the first time she has seen this. The gravity of such ordinariness makes me fall in love with her a million time in a space of a few moments.
When she wobbles as she tries to take a tentative step forward, she looks at me. When tiredness and sleep try to bring her down, she buries herself in the valleys of my body. Whenever anything threatens her, her eyes sweep and scan till they rest on mine. It sends a bolt of shock and jolts my being into realizing how inexplicably intertwined our love for the other is.
I gaze into her eyes, as dark and lovely as midnight, and I see love. The purest of its kind. A love like no other.