Life seen anew through tiny eyes

By Ben Hillyer (Contact) | The Natchez Democrat

Published Friday, July 17, 2009

My son Gibson and I celebrated birthdays last Friday. At just five-weeks old, his life hardly compares to the 2,132 weeks in my life.

As you reach your 40s, it is hard to live each day expecting new and wonderful experiences. Let’s face it. Each day begins to look a lot like the day before.

Even for a newspaper photographer who gets front row, center seats to some of the community’s best events, the umpteenth Spring Pilgrimage begins to lose a little of its newness.

Somewhere along the way, I have turned into a jaded newspaperman, publisher Kevin Cooper recently pointed out. I’ve been there, done that.

Still, there are incredible, powerful experiences sprinkled in among those ho-hum moments. I have to admit even the hundredth sight of hot air balloons drifting over the Mississippi River every October is still exhilarating. Yet, nothing compares to that first flight — the sound of the flames and the feeling of weightlessness as you lift off the ground.

I guess this same-old, same-old body was not ready for what would happen when my son entered the world five weeks ago.

From Gibson’s very first blinking moments, I have been totally captivated by his eyes — not by the shape or color. No. I have been completely taken by how vast and infinite they are.

Fascinated by the simplest block of color or stream of light, Gibson eyes are always scanning, always taking in information

They are tiny black holes, in a way and nothing seems to escape their gravitational pull.

When he turns his head to fixate on some shadow or colorful shape, I turn my head too in some crazy synchronized routine. His fascination with things I see every day and pass by with little notice suddenly has made them new again in my eyes.

Light streaming through window blinds, the graphic lines in a poster, the rhythm of light and shadow created by the Mississippi River bridge flickering in the car’s rear window are seen anew by Gibson and, by extension, me.

The whole experience has been intoxicating and exhilarating. That is until about a week ago, when Gibson’s eyes locked in on mine.

If I moved to the right, his eyes followed. If I returned to the left they did the same.

Was he gazing with the same curiosity, the same fascination that I had staring back? Was he trying to see what was behind those sleep-deprived eyes?

I wondered and then I worried.

As much as I saw endless possibility in his eyes, I realized that in the not too distant future, maybe even now, that the way I see things with my own eyes will begin to color the way he sees things.

It is a pretty heavy burden to bear, I thought. Will Gibson see life with the same sense of adventure and abandonment with which I see things through the camera lens?

Or will he see life with the worries that too often cloud my everyday thoughts?

For a brief moment answers to those questions came in the smile that slowly brightened Gibson’s entire face. Comfort came in that quick instant, when his eyes sparkled and eyebrows arched.

Being Gibson’s dad seemed to be just enough for the present. Worrying about the future seemed a lifetime away. The thought of sore muscles and tired eyes momentarily dissipated.

Two thousand one hundred and thirty weeks never felt so new.

ben hillyer is the Web editor for The Natchez Democrat. He can be reached at 601-445-3540 or ben.hillyer@natchezdemocrat.com.