I remember the first time I began bargaining with a supreme being, an ethereal, mythical figure beyond the skies to never, ever, let anything happen to my children. In the most pinnacle point of the night, surrounded by silence and darkness I would hear myself pleading - mouthing unspoken words of reason and emotion - please, please, protect them from harm.

There she is, her features softened by the night light, her sleepy eyes still lit by the faint flame of curiosity. Her infant body noticeably tired by her will to navigate the day with vigor. She's lying down and she's ready to listen.

Sometimes, we would talk of nothing. Sometimes, we spoke of everything. The stars above spelt out the answers to our problems, we spoke of them so much. And I liked looking up and seeing them spread out across the night sky, reminding me of all that we had solved. And they never followed us home. They remained up there, embedded with all of the world's problems.

A poem about my son.

Her curious mind has changed my perceptions of the world because I see it as she does, stripped away of adult hardships and in its most simplistic form. From this view, the beauty of things are blinding. See a rainbow through a child’s eyes, touch a flowing, crystal clear river through a child’s fingertips, smell the stems of a lavender plant through a child’s nose, hear the sound of the morning birds soaring from tree to tree through a child’s ears. From this view, the beauty of things are blinding.

I'm not afraid. I am ready for the challenge. I will make mistakes but I will confront them, I will right them and I will better myself. I will learn, using the mirror, to watch myself, to adapt, to change and to soar.

She was drowsy from the medicine but she still managed a smile. I hid the anxiety in my eyes but I knew she could see it. In a good marriage, love can uncover every emotion without a single word being spoken. You just have to be willing to look.