Looking at everyone at the highest common denominator

There is a child who looks at me with complete and total abandon, who tips his head down at me from where he sits high on a horse, who knows he can trust me even if he doesn’t know how to navigate the world like a child his age normally does. 

He cannot follow all the instructions, but he tips his head to the sky and hums one of the pop songs currently on repeat on the radio. 

His arms and legs shake violently, but the pony isn’t bothered. She knows the drill. She’s been around. 

I’m not bothered either, because in my heart is a deep well of love that is outpouring for this child. 

He brings out the best in me, like light is shining and I have become only love.

When I strike out hurtfully at people in my life, I don’t feel this serenity with the world, this basking in the light. 

I have burrowed into the ground and am functioning at a lower denominator.

When I look up at this boy, his eyes streaming from allergies, snot dripping from his nose, his body flailing, his eyes elsewhere, I don’t feel impatient. 

And I always thought I was impatient always. 

I don’t feel impatient, or worried, or afraid, or even sad.

I feel endlessly calm. I feel completely at ease.

Like everything is right with the world. 

Like everything will be right with the world if I just hang around cheerfully enough. Patiently enough. 

And I think, it doesn’t matter why I feel this love for a strange child. It just matters that I do.

And that I could feel this way every time I look at anyone.

with joy and confetti,

Alexa