There's something about seeing the world afresh ... like through a baby's eyes. I was watching Hudson watch his first ever snowflake waft to the ground.
I forgot what it felt like to see a first flake.
Now I recall. It was in Gastown, Vancouver, BC, in the 70s. I was 12. It all came back in a flash ... the scent of the air, the anticipation, the sound of the steam clock.
Already, he's forced me to just be in the moment a little more, and to see through a new POV. This can only be a good thing for a writer.