A child's worth

I am sitting next to the feverish kid, stroking his hair, and patting him off to sleep, while he mumbles in meftal induced drowsiness. It is 2 AM and my eyelids are giving up.

The grandmother comes over from her room, sits on one end of the bed and strokes his legs. I tell her to get some sleep, this nocturnal exercise is not going to help her BP. She refuses, stays.

I am holding the kids hands, and notice some tiny cuts and bruises that were not there earlier. I examine them like a painter who has just discovered a speck of dirt on his precious artwork. It hurts to see the blackened knee, the red line on the ankle and elbows. I am chasing that one elusive mosquito that is hovering around his head, with continued vigour.

I turn to look at what grandma has discovered while i was busy being besotted with love and displaying in unabashedly, and realize, that it is me she looking at the. She holds my palms and strokes them, looks at the wrinkles at the elbows, tucks in one stray hair behind my ear....

....just like a painter who has discovered a speck of dust on his precious artwork.

Right there, in that moment, i realize a child's worth to the mother and realize how blessed i am.