Niko
today i met a 12-day old baby named Niko. the features which stood out to me the most about him were his fragile nose (two needlepoint circles framed by a thin, peach-colored membrane) and his tiny feet, packaged in gray polyester. he mostly kept his eyes closed during our visit with his parents (Ulrich’s niece and nephew-in-law) but occasionally he cried out, grabbing at the air with his knobby fingers, his toothless mouth tilted into a wincing frown.
i instantly liked being in Niko’s presence. perhaps we’d gotten lucky by arriving during his nap time, but still: there was something about his aura, less than two weeks into his tenure on this planet, which radiated centeredness and peace. at some point while his mother recounted the events surrounding his birth i watched Niko’s face, which was right in the middle of transitioning either towards or away from a cry. and for just a fraction of a instant i saw a preview of him much later in his life, perhaps even at a point in time after i’ve passed on - a glimpse of a wiser, riper, slightly hardened version of him. even in that far-off expression he was calm and serene. i sighed a long, satiated exhale, taking comfort in a sudden knowing that things will be alright. Niko’s tranquility swaddled me in that moment and then stretched onwards, uninterrupted, through time.