This poem talks about a phenomenon I've often noticed since becoming a mother. I started thinking of individuals I met as someone's babies - sometimes wondering how they went from that to the way they turned out, and sometimes thinking that some parents somewhere must be feeling proud. It's a different way of looking at the world; if we could all do it every day, it would revolutionize the way we treat people.
This reminds me of the Gwendolyn Brooks poem, "To an Old Black Woman, Homeless and Indistinct." (You can read it here if you scroll down.) The last few lines are poignant:
Folks used to celebrate your birthday!
Folks used to say "She's such a pretty little thing!"
Folks used to say "She draws such handsome horses, cows and houses,"
Folks used to say "That child is going far."
2 hours ago