Little Dreamer's Eyes

When you first came into my life, I knew you, but I couldn't see you. Always there with me as I went through my days. My emotions. My thoughts. You could not hear my thoughts and you could not look at my face to know how I felt by the fear in my eyes. But you were there.

You were alone yet safe from the world I faced. A world that would eventually turn into a struggle for you to understand. A world I welcomed you into with open arms. Did you have thoughts? What was it like before you entered my world? Was it calm?

When I first saw you it was not in person. It was a picture. Black and white with grain which encouraged me to squint to take a closer look. With the image close to my face, I looked at yours. How your eyes were spaced from your nose. The curve of your ear. The mouth which I knew would eventually speak words of love. Your fingers were open and relaxed. I could tell you felt safe before you entered my world. You were like me. We would meet and instantly feel a connection. A trust. We could do anything together, undefeated.

And then one day, before we met, you stopped breathing. I felt helpless when I found I was not able to be there for you. You were in a world which had not yet collided with mine. You were supposed to be safe, but we could not control the impact of life, even together. Had I lost you, I would be lost myself.

When we met, still affected by this struggle you made into my world, you were different. You weren't who I saw in the picture. You were tense. Your fists clenched. Your tears rolled down your cheeks as you arched your back in discomfort with what being on this side of life has handed you. With your red face and your unheard thoughts you cried for my help as I did what I could to understand all I needed to know to give you comfort here with me.

I looked at your open eyes and your mouth which longed just for one large gulp. The tube upon my finger facilitating the only nurishment you could swallow was not enough. Where was that child in the picture? This was not you. Do you remember yourself then? When you could move within your small space of life before entering this large world only to find when you got here that your movements were still confined.

When you speak, do you feel heard? I hear you. When you laugh you are like any other child. When you think, you are like any other child. When you cry, you are like any other child.

But when you attempt to achieve the independence you deserve, you struggle unlike most other children. So young for such a struggle. So young to have thoughts of doubt or frustration. I have lived my years to have my thoughts evolve, you have lived such a short time, yet face difficulty in even the smallest task.

You are beautiful. Your thoughts are heard here. I could not hear them before I met you. Your smile brings me warmth, I could not see it before I looked at your face with your nose touching mine. When you hold my hand I am thankful that you are here to feel as I grasp your palm giving you the assurance that I will not let you fall...and if you do I will pick you right back up. Physically. Emotionally.

Every breath of life you take now makes up for the few you lost. It makes up for the times I held my breath waiting for answers. And when you exhale I do as well, because we are in this together. Two by two. We look at that faded image as it's yellowed and symbolizing that the person in that picture is gone. Who was that person? I don't need to know.

I've been blessed everyday since I met you and wouldn't change anything about you. You are my angel.

You are perfect.

You are my child.