She’s two weeks old today. She’s still in a phase where she can’t 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’t 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’s how we are making sense of things. I wonder how theirs is.
If life is all about Light and right angles, then maybe that’s 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’s first attempt at piecing together the world, like a puzzle with no edges. It’s wild to think that’s 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’s why certain colors or patterns hit us so hard later in life, tugging at memories we can’t quite grasp.
As she grows, those bursts of light will start to form faces, objects, meaning. It’s like her brain is a canvas, and every day adds a new stroke. I can’t help but wonder what her world looks like right now probably a dreamy blur of warmth, milk, and our voices. Does she know we’re her parents, or are we just the loudest, brightest blobs in her universe?
Life as light and angles feels poetic, but it’s also humbling. We’re all just chasing clarity, trying to make sense of the light we’re given. For her, it’s a fresh start every day a new angle, a new burst of light to decode. I can’t wait to see what she makes of it all.
