Altruism.

I picture myself on the top of a grassy hill. There is nothing around me for miles and all I can hear is the warm, summer wind blow. The sun is shining so brightly in the sky I can barely keep my eyes open. When I manage to squint through the light I see waving blades of grass in every direction, so green it almost looks fluorescent. A blue sky looks down upon me, pure white clouds drifting above my head. I am filled with an overpowering happiness, so great my body can barely stand it. My mouth forms a smile and spreads across my face into a grin. I outstretch my arms, spread my fingers apart, tilt my head back. Sunlight and heat pours over my skin.

I picture myself on a deserted beach. The air is still, but for seagulls squawking. The sun beats down and I can feel pinpricks on my skin where it is starting to burn. Warm water rushes up to my feet as waves clap right in front of me. I pull my shirt over my head and throw it somewhere in the sand behind me. My feet are soaked in salt water and I have sand caked all the way from my heel to my knees, but I shimmy out of my shorts and kick them away. Standing there, alone, content, unclothed, I wade into the warm ocean. I push past little waves and pull against the current. In a matter of minutes I dip under the waves and swim around, running my fingers through the sand. Sand, sand, sand, it's everywhere. It grazes my arms and scratches at my knees. In this moment, I'm not happy, I'm serene. There are no problems, no worries, no regrets, no fears, no resentments. There is nothing but me and this water.

I picture myself working in a garden outside of a beautiful brick and yellow house. A sweet-faced innocent little boy stares up at me from his spot in the dirt. His hands are covered in brown, his knees are scraped, and his mouth has red in the corners from Kool Aid. The sun is hidden behind a tall tree, light only making it through breaks in between leaves. A humid wind sweeps in and rustles the hair out of his perfect, little bowl cut. His big, dark, moon-shaped eyes stare up at me. His lips curve into a smile and as he starts to tell me his favorite dinosaurs. With every syllable he picks up and drops another piece of dirt. I cannot help but laugh. I take the gardening scissors in my gloved hands and cut him a marigold off the plant. This beautiful little boy giggles and turns the flower upside down. He spins it around and chuckles the way children do as he explains that now it looks like a dancer. I brush a piece of hair from my face and tell him he should give that flower to Daddy when he gets home from work. This little boy can not be more than 5 and he is my son. When I look at him I love him more and differently than I have ever loved before. I want to hold him in my arms forever, protect him from any pain he might encounter. I want him to be as happy in every situation as he is when we play in the garden. The only thing I can feel is the love I have for my baby.