A day in her life

I feel her stirring next to me and rush to put my hand on her small forehead so as to give her the sense of comfort that would allow her to continue to sleep for a few minutes longer. She opens her eyes sleepily and then closes them again, content to see her mother lying next to her. When she finally wakes up, her eyes open wide with wonder and happiness at the start of a new day and she smiles at me and mumbles something that I equate with a Good Morning. Then she promptly sits up � alive, awake and with not a moment to waste as she goes quickly about the very important job of living each day to the fullest.
She immediately begins pointing to the balcony door and says one of the five words in her vocabulary � �Bahar� which means she wants to go out. I take her with me to go and retrieve the newspaper and as I bend down to pick it up, I see she�s already running around, pointing to the birds and showing me that the trees are moving in the wind. Then our dogs begin to bark and she goes crazy with excitement �Bhow Bhow� she says as if explaining to me that the dogs are awake and talking to her.
�Yes, yes,� I say impatiently. �Simba is wishing you good morning. Let�s go in, now�. It�s difficult to bring her back indoors, but when I finally do, I cannot help wondering how different she is from me at that time in the morning.
I usually wake up to the sound of my doorbell marking the arrival of the maid who promptly starts her cleaning routine. My first thought is usually �Morning already? So soon?� Groan... My mind then begins to fill with all the mundane jobs that need to be done before I rush out for work. Water the plants, arrange for breakfast, pack my daughter�s bag and get ready for office where another list of mundane things awaits my attention.
All day long she plays. Opens doors, closes doors, switches on the TV, switches off the TV, picks up the ball, throws the ball, climbs the bed, gets off the bed, plays with her cousins, dances to music and laughs and cheers when anyone plays along with her. All day long, I work. Make documents, go to meetings, handle issues and stay as diplomatic and politically correct as possible.
At six in the evening, we meet again. She points to the door and says �mama� as soon as she hears the car horn. Then she comes running from the other end of the driveway, jumps straight into my arms and as her small hands touch my face, I forget every single incident, issue and problem that had plagued my day.
As I play with her in the park I realize again how different she is from me. How the smallest things can make her happy as she throws back her head and laughs gaily when I play peek-a-boo with her through my chunni, how everything is a new adventure, a new discovery, how each child in the park is a new friend waiting to be made and how each day is a new learning, a joyful experience.
Then all of a sudden, she falls and hurts herself, breaking into a small cry and I rush to console her. As I rub her knee, I start saying �Sweetie didn�t you see the step? Don�t you know you have to lift your foot to get onto it?� Within two minutes, she�s on her feet again as she goes running towards a group of children playing badminton. �Unimaginable energy levels�, I say to myself, as I follow her.
It�s difficult to put her to sleep at the end of the day. Although she�s exhausted, she cries and tries to get off my lap because she wants to play some more. I try to calm her down by singing a lullaby as we rock on the rocking chair. After a few minutes, she dozes off. She looks like an angel cuddled on my lap, totally relaxed and at peace and as I look at her beautiful innocent face, for the third time in the day; I realize how different she is from me. From her eyes she views the world as a huge opportunity to be conquered. From her mouth she describes exactly what she wants. From her facial expressions, she conveys her true feelings. From her hands she explores � picks up and touches everything, her inquisitive mind trying to understand what it is and what it does. Her enthusiasm and open-ness sometimes make me feel that I should be the one learning from her, rather than vice versa.
I wonder what she thought of just before she finally fell asleep. I wonder what drives her to be like this. I�m amazed at how she keeps herself so busy, how she�s so interested in everything and how she smiles and claps her hands with joy whenever she achieves something even if its as simple as putting the lid back over her water bottle. And I wonder how long she�ll be able to continue with this carefree attitude before disillusionment and disenchantment with the world settles in, as it tends to, with age and time.
For as long as possible, I hope and I say a silent prayer as I lay her head on the pillow and slowly draw the comforter over her. Another day gone, but for her, a whole new beginning, a whole new world again, tomorrow.



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