Eden - corrected version

 He’s over there asleep on the sofa in front of a dancing fire. It’s brutally cold outside but not in here, not with last spring’s firewood blazing in the fireplace. The “He” I’m talking about being my2 ½ year old grandson, Dorian Alexander. What a little pistol he is! If cuteness were firepower, Little Man would wipe out the room. My own children, Sevi and Madden, have been the wonders of my life - breathtaking , sometimes difficult, but still  life blood throughout my entire being. As an old cowboy in Montana once told me about his children,”Wouldn’t give ya a nickel for ‘em, wouldn’t take a million”. Now, I’ve got Little Man asleep three feet away. How does a person keep from exploding when a body overloaded with feelings sends you flying through air like a loose balloon? My experience is no different from millions of grand parents, but I’ve taken to wondering why, really why? You may disagree but here’s what I’ve come up with. I’m not certain these thoughts are original, but, y’know, lock ‘n’ load. No guts, no glory.

 I passed the sofa where he was sleeping to bring in more firewood. He was asleep on his back. That face, unblemished, free of wrinkles and blotches, stopped me cold. “Let the damn fire go out. You don’t want to miss this.” I looked at his closed eyes to see if there was movement. I wondered if he were dreaming and about what? His sweet breathing was sometimes interrupted by a purring sound, like that of a kitten. An unmarked face completely at peace. A face that was peace. I was mesmerized, unable to look away. I even forgot to breathe. I remember when my son, about the same age, asleep in his crib in the dark of night, I walked into his room, stood by his crib, overwhelmed by feelings foreign to me until this little creature kidnapped my life. I reached down and touched his head. Instantly, a flash, a jolt, a powerful charge of some kind of unleashed energy that bound us one to the other for life. This connection between my son and me (unleashed again two years later when Madden Rose became our daughter), a connection as powerful as anything I’d felt before caught me by such surprise that it felt as if I were being hurled by a tornado, free of the earth, no fear, free from everything on earth except my son. It beggars the question:

Why?

Lots of reasons but I’m looking for “The Reason”.

He is innocent, as yet unburdened by the minefield ahead. When last I checked, the Garden of Eden was the first and last place of pure, unvarnished innocence: cradled, cared for, no worries, no enemies, no concept of good or sin or evil, loved as you will never be loved again. Nothing to line his face or turn his hair gray. Not yet. It’s a perfect world. He is so innocent. Now. But, he won’t be for very long. He’ll be entering a foreign world. I watch his unbounded joy and discovery, “That was me!”, and that epiphany sends me back to Eden before the gates were thrown open, and the only two innocent beings in creation were told to take a walk. They were issued consciences as a parting gift. After that, they would never again have that sense of peace and innocence except that brief sliver of time at the very beginning. I delight in his innocence and, for that split instant, his innocence is my innocence, too.