Skip to main content

curls, dimples, and chubby cheeks



First published August 23 2007

In any particular bad day I have habits to make myself better. One- I put on my grandmothers nightgown. Something about it just gives me peace. Its yellow, made of cotton, with white flowers. Nothing I would pick out a store to buy. But when I wear it I feel at ease. And last but not least. I make myself chamomile tea - the Mexican antidote to everything... or so I’ve been told.
And when none of that seems to work... I baby-sit my niece. Don’t underestimate the power of a child. One look at their dimples and all your troubles seem to melt away. My niece has that effect on me. I cant escape her curls, dimples, and chubby cheeks. No matter how tired or out of mind i am. She brings me back to solid ground. She's crazy and a bit of overwhelming but nonetheless- my best medicine.
When she was born i was facing a lot of difficulties in my life. I was a mess. Crying if anyone just touched me or looked my way. But my niece would come around and just holding her would make me feel okay. And out of nowhere the corners of my mouth would creep up slowly even after not having smiled for days. And an adorable doing of hers would cause laughter i hadn't heard in weeks.
A child can do that. Remind you that happiness lies in the smallest of details. That life isn't and shouldn't be that complicated. And that oh-oh's are just opportunities to redo things again. That the smallest accomplishments deserve applause. That choosing to not see or not be seen is as easy as covering your eyes. And that sad moments can become happy moments by simple changing the way you look at things.
Imagine how different life would be if everyone had the mind of a child. or like in the words of Robert Fulghum:
"Think what a better world it would be if we all - the whole world - had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down with our blankies for a nap."

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Love never returns void

Many years ago I wrote a piece on a dear friend of mine. At the time her story unraveled with a heartbreaking ending. But if anything remains true from that story is that she is and will continue to be the eternal optimistic… who always, always believes in love. She paced back and forth, looking at the door and back at her watch every few minutes. She was nervous and her hands were sweating. Finally to catch a breath she sits down and lets out a deep sigh. And she closes her eyes. It’s surreal to her how years ago this was the exact same spot she last saw him. Where he promised he loved her and that love was everlasting. The last place before their story crashed and unraveled. She never thought shed be back here again after the way it ended. Years had passed and life and time had taken their toll on their story. One she thought was signed and sealed, shelved on a book case and had become dusty with time. She got up at the sound of the announcer saying the flight had arrived. She l...

How to flip tortillas without burning your hand

It was a bright and early morning when I woke up to the sound of my alarm and my sister opening the curtains wide letting in a little too much sunlight. I wanted desperately to turn the other way and sleep in a few more minutes but even on vacation she was a stickler for time. So I rolled out of bed reluctantly, I got dressed, and we headed for the days adventures; snorkeling first on our list. We got to the dock and after boarding instructions we boarded the vessel that would take us to a near island with coral reefs. Finally at our destination the boat anchored and we were handed our gear. So flippers and all people one by one jumped into the vast ocean uninhibited. I did too. I’d forgotten how rough the Pacific was. A greater part of World War II had been fought here. Somehow the waters still reeked of vengeance. Except I forgot I could not swim, and at that moment even how to float. So I was instantly submerged by the undertow and the lapping of the waves. I fought to catc...

The magnitude of history

It’s my usual Sunday night, me rummaging through notes and notebooks, editing and writing. I stood up and went into my writing closet. Realizing that the binder I wanted was at the very top, I stood on a stool and yanked at the bottom of the stack. Swiftly it all came toppling over me, hitting me in the head in the process. Papers and folders scattered everywhere. I grunted. I began picking them up one by one when I ran across a manila folder gently titled “WEDDING” in block letters, with a red heart sticker following the word. I’d forgotten I was planning a wedding. I slid slowly to the floor till I was sitting and I began to go through its contents. There were lists of first dance songs and father/daughter songs; clippings of flower arrangements, swatches of fabrics, notebook entries of budgets, and location listings. There it all was. Very detailed and organized. All I ever dreamed of, all I thought I ever wanted. And on the last page, on the back cover of the folder, a pasted...