Baby Dove

The little girl or the Internet, I am doubtful. It took place years ago, this I am certain.

On the fateful day, when net connection broke down at home, we started making connection instead.  I remember going to the internet café across the street.  The lady owner warmly welcomed me but my ears were filled more of the baby. She was crying absolutely loud in her mother's fondling that I could only blame the uncertain weather during the hot summer in Manila, Philippines.

Trying to get her attention, I gently touched her curly rasta-like hair. It did work as she acknowledged a foreign presence with shyness of affection before resorting to babies’ language: crying. The mother looked at me with a forgiving eye; the father got out and greeted me.

Our story had started ever since. I walked in every evening and the baby seemed to be all ready. I deliberately took the last booth next to the connecting glass door to the back part of the house where she was busy with barbies. Or, sometimes, she seemed to be helping out the mother.

I always saw the baby girl holding a comb, a huge one for those long tiny fingers. And a bucket which she used to cover herself seconds after she gave me an adorable smile would complete the scene. But every time I made a sudden got-you-there look, she would turn those orbs elsewhere. It was a kind of game of little fun we were playing. The mother complained never. She rather relegated the baby care to me!

Sometimes I reached out my arms and the baby responded with a wide smile a 3-year old could imagine. I mean really wide in proportion with tiny teeth. She would step forward for few seconds before making an impish stop and turned back. There she was standing again behind the wall smiling at me as if nothing had happened.

I got kind of anticipatory feeling every morning I woke up. The baby’s round face appeared vividly once my eyes opened after wrestling with some drowsing. I envisioned to resume the hide and seek in the evening. She was the one who made rules and sweetly put me under the control of innocence. I sensed that the mother and the father were probably betting on the final story of our affair. 

I took the command of the book Jinak-Jinak Merpati. Merpati is an Indonesian word for dove and Jinak for approachable. As all Indonesians are aware of, the phrase points to the particular characteristic of the bird: seemingly inviting and approachable. But, once you are about to cross the distance allowed, she will fly away teasing you with some circular air shows before setting up certain closeness to you, tempting. It is her call when you could make the next step. Be patient.

And patient I was for such an angelic gift of embrace. An embrace of a baby, who I’m to refuse! So I made such a strategic resolution that if the baby was playing out a dove, I was playing out a dove as well. It was not at all a baby care scenario. It was kind of mutual agreement, wasn’t it?

When the adorable baby finally decided to sit on my lap playing keyboard, while mother was smiling warmly towards father, I instantly knew why a BABY could lead my soul into divine eternity.

We're both doves of happiness.