I didn't know that the back pockets of a pair of jeans can bear a 10-kg heavy mass of a wiggling, giggling child until my namesake niece decided to cling to me. Somehow, the feeling that the love of a child can give you is almost incomparable to many things. The way she says “yoo are a treeee” and makes me stand with a leg resting on a step and climbs onto me. The way she sits on my thigh and leans her head on my shoulder (tired from all the climbing onto human trees). The “Aii loffve you!” that is almost immediately followed by a long, 'Mmmmuuaaahhh' that almost buries her little face into my cheek. The way the love sometimes exceeds just a kiss and the little teeth bite into the cheek, at the same time giggling while the small arms wrap tight around my neck. Her arms are just big enough to reach right around...and needless to say, strong enough to pull my hair that is “bootipfool”.
She sits on my lap, eating, oblivious to who is holding her, stroking her hair back when it falls on her face or making sure that she herself doesn't slip off while she's busy with the ever-so-fascinating things on her plate and on the table. The little head, tilted to one side, lost in the curiosity of how a tiny heart-shaped biscuit can so cleverly elude the tiny inexperienced fingers. She is so quiet now. Full of silent wonder about the world. She doesn't realise that a pair of watchful eyes makes sure that she doesn't hit her head anywhere, hurt her elbow or hit a leg on the table. She doesn't notice them. She barely notices me now and doesn't know if I'm looking at her.
But I am. With all my heart.