She鈥檚 two weeks old today. She鈥檚 still in a phase where she can鈥檛 really see or make sense out of things other than cry eat sleep and squint at us. I bet she sees us as just burst of lights.
I bet drinking that breast milk is like paradise to them. I wonder if they can think. I can鈥檛 remember anything about when I was 12 weeks old. But I still have flashes of very early stages of my life.
I wonder if those flashes eventually grow to become our faces right? Everything we see is just a mixture of light in the right angles. Or at least it鈥檚 how we are making sense of things. I wonder how theirs is.
If life is all about Light and right angles, then maybe that鈥檚 the secret to everything finding the right perspective to make sense of the chaos.
Those bursts of light my two-week-old sees might just be her brain鈥檚 first attempt at piecing together the world, like a puzzle with no edges. It鈥檚 wild to think that鈥檚 how it all starts, raw, unfiltered sensations, no context, just pure experience.
I wonder if those early flashes of light and color shape who we become more than we realize. Like, what if the way she squints at the morning sun filtering through the window or the glow of my phone screen in the dark plants some tiny seed in her mind?
Maybe that鈥檚 why certain colors or patterns hit us so hard later in life, tugging at memories we can鈥檛 quite grasp.
As she grows, those bursts of light will start to form faces, objects, meaning. It鈥檚 like her brain is a canvas, and every day adds a new stroke. I can鈥檛 help but wonder what her world looks like right now probably a dreamy blur of warmth, milk, and our voices. Does she know we鈥檙e her parents, or are we just the loudest, brightest blobs in her universe?
Life as light and angles feels poetic, but it鈥檚 also humbling. We鈥檙e all just chasing clarity, trying to make sense of the light we鈥檙e given. For her, it鈥檚 a fresh start every day a new angle, a new burst of light to decode. I can鈥檛 wait to see what she makes of it all.
