He Crawls

He finds his place in the room. He can not yet walk. He crawls. His head is heavy. He uses it to gain momentum. He’s a smart little thing. His shoes incorporate Velcro which is uncool in most elementary circles, but he doesn’t mind. He craves not schoolyard popularity. He crawls on. Carpet burns are avoided by perfectly fitting jeans. “When will his hair grow in?” wonders his mother out loud with full expectation of receiving an answer. “Is his hair red?” his father quietly retorts.

Both questions remain unanswered… among others.

Who is this little guy? What’s he thinking? Where is he going?  What will he become; post tiny shoes and jeans, post carpet and clean walls, post toddling? Where will he go? What type of food will he eat? Is he a vegetarian? I mean, this is a life we’re talking about after all. A human. A brand new heart beat. Everything he does, he does for the first time! And it’s all epic, at least to him...

What's he doing? Is he praying? Is he sleeping? Is he playing hide and seek with us all? Or perhaps he's trying to find a new world to explore between his legs underneath and beyond himself.

He rolls. He flips over and for a moment is dizzy. “What happened?” he thinks. “Where am I? What is this squishy stuff underneath me? Who are these people? Do I know them? I think I’m going to cry. That usually gets mom and her milk over here. Wait, that’s mom right there. Is she laughing at me? She is. Don’t laugh at me, mom. It’s going to make me cry. Wait, everyone’s laughing. I’m definitely going to cry now. Here I go, you guys are so going to get it… Wait, what’s that between my legs? Is that another world? I better check it out…”

Photo by Matthew Whitehead.  Words by Dustin Whitehead.