A Baby

The thing that I remember most vividly about children I have held, my own and others, is the smell of them. Babies have that smell that comes off their scalp, it's unique to them, like a puppy's breath. They nuzzle in the spot between your neck and shoulder, warm, fragile breath, whispers against your neck, and that baby smell fills your senses. When you hold that child, smell that baby smell, you can't have bad thoughts. You know you are holding one of the best of us, untainted with all of the crap that we accumulate as adults.

This is the most beautiful paragraph I have read in a long while. 

The rest of his post deteriorates into ugliness.  Not by his writing or recitation of truth, but the subject matter.

After I read Midtown’s post today, I wanted to go home and hug my own kids.  Even though they have smelly feet and their scalp no longer carries the scent of the miraculous, they are my babies, and I can still remember them as when.

I then read and reread his first paragraph.  Amidst so much ugliness, a baby indeed smells of beauty and hope and truth.

What a beautiful reminder, especially this time a year.