Sunset reflections

A picture I took a while back, that has been creeping into my thoughts of late, for some strange reason I’ve yet to figure out.

Tempus Fugit

 

Time is like the wind, it lifts the light and leaves the heavy.
- Doménico Cieri Estrada

It occurred to me that I’ve written more about my son’s illnesses than I have other aspects of him; and that simply won’t do. At the time of this writing, my son’s sixteen months-old. He has entered the stage where he wants to give hugs and kisses; and where he wants to eat on his own, resulting sometimes in some pretty messy hugs and kisses! My son enjoys sharing things … although he does sometimes expect for shared items to be shared right back into his hands. He speaks in two languages (although he sometimes pays attention in neither), and has already taught kids in his nursery some words in English; which they, in turn, have taken home to their German families. I have had to be careful with what I say – it seems my son is rather fast on the uptake – so none of the children get the same kind of education in English I did from my then drill instructor father. It seems my singing, which to me sounds a bit like a strangled bull moose, soothes him when he’s on my shoulder; but winds him up when he’s on his feet. It doesn’t seem to matter at all what I sing, just where he is when I sing it. My son also has the kind of eyes that can bore right down into your soul – elf eyes, I call them – and he has unsettled more than one adult with them; although they are to themselves really magnificent eyes, grey-blue, almost silver-blue, with a dark rim – I’ll have to dig around and look for a picture to post – perhaps it’s less the eyes, and more the intensity behind them that causes some people to feel unsettled by his gaze.