Through the Eyes of a Child

As adults, we rise up and power through our days, focusing on the concerns and employments that affect our own existence, and the affairs of the world. We forget, sometimes, how the simple things can provide immense pleasure to our lives. . .

This morning, as I was at my desk ruminating on world and local events (courtesy of the internet and the local paper), a small sound came to my ears. My youngest granddaughter slowly and carefully opened the door of my office, peered around it, and very quietly said “Good morning, Grandpa.”

She looked out the window. “The sun woked up. And I woked up. Does the sun eat breakfast, Grandpa?” I smiled, and said, “I don’t know, but I bet you would like some breakfast.” So we went to the kitchen, and I prepared her a bowl of cereal (colored circles, please, Grandpa, and orange juice). I fixed a cup of coffee, and listened to her chatter on about how dogs have four feet, but they are called paws, and people don’t have paws, people have only two feet, but we have hands; the reflection of her bowl of cereal on her glass of juice, and so forth, as she ate her cereal and drank her juice. I reflected on how much she enjoys life, enjoys taking each minute of life and finding wonder in it. How much she revels in sharing her thoughts, openly, without worrying if she is talking too much or making a fool of herself.

On our kitchen wall, we have an impressionist painting of a street scene that my wife and I purchased some time back; it reminds us of Seville, and a wonderful trip we had taken to that ancient Andalusian city. She looked up at it, as if seeing it for the first time, and asked me about it. How do you explain the emotions of a trip down memory lane to a four year old? I did my best, and then she looked at our dog, and commented about how he had so much hair, and never had to wear clothes. On to the next subject!

Now she is joined by her older sister, and I am treated to a continuous litany of (to me) unconnected thoughts running rampant through their minds.
How today was a no school day. They like to play outside, but it was raining, so they would stay inside. But they can’t go outside unless an adult is with them. Jonathan can’t walk yet, ‘cause he is a baby. And on and on.
I lost track of the events I was studying so hard a half hour ago, and become entranced by their view of the world and life in it.

I forgot, for that brief moment in time, about the tragic plane crash, the terrorist attack on a college in Kenya, the letters and bills on my desk that demand attention. My arthritis drifted to the back of my mind, as I watched them toss their hair around, smile and giggle at each other.

“With the eyes of a child
You must come out and see
That your world’s spinning round
And through life you will be
A small part of a hope of a love that exists
In the eyes of a child you will see.”
(John Lodge, 1969. The Moody Blues: To Our Children’s Children’s Children)

Yes, it is cloudy and misty today in the Salt Lake valley. The yard needs the moisture. . . etc., etc. Today, however, my world is full of springtime, sunshine and life!

Thank you, Esther and Martha, for bringing my feet back to the ground, and lifting my mind to the sky.

RM Hartman

Your thoughts and comments are, as always, welcome.