Shadows

If you spend enough time with toddlers you start to see the world anew, through their eyes. Words become fresh again, pots become instruments, and burps are the funniest thing under the sun.  The other week,  my nephew and I stood looking out the kitchen window. Outside, the sun had gone to sleep and the porch  light cast new shadows. The night wind made the big, patio  umbrella dance without music, its black shadow bobbing ominously against the garage. I felt the grip of my nephew's fingers tighten, like his legs wrapped around my waist. His chubby finger pointed at the dark, the  umbrella, the shadow. He had this anxious look and I could tell he was having a "to cry or not to cry" moment.  Unable to make his mind up,  he looked back my way, checking to see how I was handling the spookiness. As I calmly explained shadows, wind and night time, I could see the wheels in his head working hard to keep up with a world that keeps getting bigger and more complex. Holding him closer, it dawned on me that it wasn't just him I was trying to comfort, but myself. Sometimes it takes a toddler's honest fear to admit how scary things still are, even when we have the words to explain them away.