Dad 2022. Wonders and Dreams.

When you sleep on my shoulder I dream with you. Sometimes you doze off after I burp you, your legs tucked under your stomach, your back curved just so, your tiny hands resting on my clavicle. I hold you and I listen to you breathe and I dream. I dream of a wide open field where you are running, a marble blue lake where you are swimming, a family dinner table where you are laughing, a long ride where you are counting the colors of the other cars. I wonder about the passions you will have, the worlds you will discover, the paths you will travel. This great uncharted time ahead, for you and for us, for this family we have become. I dream of you making your way. I think of you growing and sensing and learning and pushing at the bounds. I think of you wearing different pairs of shoes over the years, your feet carrying you far and wide—what singular things will you encounter? What beauty will you know? When I sit here in the quiet dark of the early morning, with you asleep on my shoulder, I dream and I wonder and I put aside fears. These moments are for hope, the conjuring of a bright collage, a tender map of possibility.