Sweet Interlude

As I was walking down 86th Street a woman holding a baby was coming towards me.  She was pointing to a tree explaining its blossoms.  I loved how intensely the child listened as if he understood every word she said.

“Teaching a little life lesson I see,” I said, slowing my pace.

“Well, you have to start somewhere,” she said, “and what’s better than a tree.”

The first thing I noticed was how mother and son had the same eyes which is so uncanny.  The mystery of genetics, how it takes a blueprint of a parent to reproduce and patent a scaled down model.

“What’s it like to see yourself in his itty-bitty face?”

Without taking pause she said, “Like the first time I ever looked into a mirror.”

Sigh

SB

 

Advertisements

About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
This entry was posted in Family, Home, kids, Love, nature, New York City, parents, words and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

21 Responses to Sweet Interlude

  1. micklively says:

    Is love just genetics?

    Like

    • You’re in love, you tell me.

      Liked by 1 person

      • micklively says:

        Folk were living and loving for around 250,000 years before they discovered they had genes. Just because I know they’re there, doesn’t mean I’m granted grandstand view of what they’re up to.
        Mothers love their babies (usually). It doesn’t matter if they’re pug-ugly brutes, they’re still loved. I guess that immediate and automatic bond is genetically driven. We probably wouldn’t be here otherwise.

        Like

      • Put ugly, just love that. I wasn’t a very attractive baby having no neck to speak of. I looked like a cookie jar yet my mother proudly pushed me around in my stroller as if I was the top baby. Of course that ended once I had a vocabulary. I do think babies have their own language learning to say, fuck you ma, pretty early on. Considering how my mother cursed like a sailor, yes…genetics were in play.

        Liked by 1 person

      • micklively says:

        Almost a cue for a song: “You must have been a beautiful baby, ‘cos Honey…..”

        Like

      • Ha Ha…a cookie jar Mick, I looked liked a cookie jar.

        Liked by 1 person

      • micklively says:

        I find that hard to believe. Anyroadup, there must have been a model in your genes (or jeans).

        Like

  2. Lovely … just lovely! My sister’s son is just her in drag…it’s crazy.

    Like

  3. skinnyuz2b says:

    Thanks for sharing such a beautiful slice of life.
    Our first and only grandchild (14 mo.) is the spitting image of our biological son. It’s like seeing him as a toddler and young adult at the same time.

    Like

  4. Lynn says:

    It is uncanny some days looking into the eyes & face of your children. Our daughter is the spitting image of me, our son is a combination of the two of us. Reflections of ourselves are seen not only in a physical sense, but also in their mannerisms which is quite comical some days!

    Like

  5. I have always been fascinated with family resemblance. How you can tell which family a child belongs to in a park by the way they look. My brothers and I don’t look at all alike but I think you can still tell we’re related.

    Like

  6. AZMike says:

    I like the book, “The Shack”, the author used the line, “I tell everyone I think the kids got their good looks from me as my wife still has hers.”

    Like

  7. That’s beautiful, Susannah.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.