Dad 2022. The Friday Before.

You are coming into our lives this weekend. I am excited and nervous and a little scared, honestly. Mom is ready, she keeps saying. We are both ready to meet you, for you to be in the world, to be with us in our home, your new home, with love and attention and support and books and music and our dog Apricot and fresh air and laughter. Mom and I like to laugh a lot. We’ve laughed every day since we’ve been together. We will also be tired, so we’ve been told. You will first experience us as sleep deprived novices. The house is clean and ready for you. This will be a home to make you feel safe and nurture your dreams. We’ll do our best to teach you about life, from what we know, from what we imagine and idealize, from what we’ll fight to make just so. You will become you here with us. You will grow—I can’t even begin to describe how much you’ll grow, now and even much later. We will always be there for you. You don’t know what clichés are yet, but we’ll be spouting a lot of them, because often they are true and they fit the occasion. I’ll be reading to you, playing piano for you, making up silly songs to sing to you (just ask Apricot…), and holding you on my chest, my arms a screen and a sanctuary, holding you alee, and also holding you when you face the wide, windy world. I’ll be a little older than the other dads, and I think about this more than I’d like, but I’ve got a lot to share with you, I don’t have ambitions to split time with you, I’ve got the love of years to pour into you. I’m in good health, with decent self awareness and an even temper and a persistent childlike sense of wonder about the universe and all things in it. My knees are a bit creaky and my teeth seem to hurt for no reason depending on the weather, and I have some anxiety now and again, some bouts with the past and worries about the future, but this can be part of life, and it’s nothing compared to what it was like long before, before I knew anything besides myself, before I met your mother and everything changed and light was suddenly all around. This weekend I will become your dad, and then I will be your dad forever.