Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Kimberly Potter Kendrick


By the age of one and a half, Little One obviously unusual, maybe a bit odd, but gave the sweetest kisses, but only after he stopped licking

A quirky baby was he, spending warm mornings soaking in the sun, Fascination found watching squirrels scurrying in the trees
Perhaps he pondered life or spent his quiet time in meditation

Although no regular schedule he kept; soft, fuzzy blankets and bottle in tow Little One trailed off to bed when slumber called his name, these specially chosen blankets cradled him as he slept, often one even pulled over his head

Lying in the grass, inspecting individual blades, distracted by a pine cone, no attention given to a nearby bouncing ball, Little One preferred stones

Brave, fearless; jumping off rocks into the deep water below, SPLASH,
his mother dove right behind as Little One knew not how to swim

Christmas arrived as he approached two, unlike his brother who tore through his packages not looking at the first before ripping open the next; Little One sauntered about the day unwrapping gifts occasionally
His time spent examining each new find to discover how it worked, what sound it made; picking up his new find and to the corner he went, gifts stacked unopened for hours

Stubborn that Little One was, he screamed, cried, threw himself upon the floor kicking all the while; he waited for a response, if none occurred, more screaming ensued

This kid has rhythm, Little One’s body grooves with the beat, to the music he bopped his head, arms waved, hands clapped, knees and hips swayed in tempo
Perchance a future dancer or musician

Curled up in the arms of his mother Little One finds contentment, comforted a few moments, then scuttles away to his next adventure




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