Hi. You don’t know me, but we’ll meet sometime soon.
I’m your father, Luke… haha. One day you’ll get that joke, and it will probably make you embarrassed. You see, it’s a famous line from a movie and an inescapable part of pop culture, but that’s all out of your range now. You don’t even know what a movie is, but you’ll love them, I promise.
Warning: I can be corny and all kids are embarrassed by their corny parents. Deal with it.
It’s a little silly that I’m writing you because right now you only exist as an image in my brain, a series of words on a rather unread blog, an idea blossoming in the garden of my soul. Corny, you could say. I’m waiting for you to come around, though. To reach the shores of this life you need to swim through an ocean of nonexistence. It’s my job to keep calling you to shore, and keep growing as a man so when you arrive, when you really exist, I’ll be able to take care of you properly. Shelter. Food. Love, love, love.
I don’t know if you’ll be a boy, little jeans, little sneakers, looking like a little me; or a girl, precious flower dress, curly hair, even though mines straighter than an airport runway (it’s just what I picture, maybe she’ll get it from her mom).
Speaking of, I don’t know who your mother will be, another of life’s great unknowns, but I’ll love her as much as I’ll love you, this is for sure. I know she’s out there, though, dancing through fields of lavender in a flowing cotton dress, looking for me through books of poetry. I’m searching for her face in a sea of strangers, hers is the instantly familiar one, drawn on the inside of my eyelids. She’ll be creative, beautiful, and funny. Blonde, brunette, fiery red…. She’ll love me like no one has before, inside and out. She’ll look at life like it’s a sundae bar, sweet and tempting and always ready to dive in. Together we’ll make a happy family, a cocoon of love, support, and corny jokes to shelter in from the inclement weather of time. And we’ll all have style, and be smart, and talk about books and current events, and we’ll garden together, travel to foreign countries in a pack of three, and make wonderful memories.
Three amigos.
You seem to be taking your time, and that’s all right, because while I wait I’m stuffing my heart like a teddy bear, so when you do come along you’ll have a soft, comforting place to rest your head. Until the day you’re born I’m saving all my love in a love bank to collect interest, doubling and tripling, until I’m a love tycoon and you’re my fortunate love heir, the Warren Buffet of hugs and kisses.
I will protect you, my prince or princess, like a knight assigned by the highest court in the land. I’ll be a good man, so you learn right from wrong. I’ll kiss your mother without fear and listen to her closely, so you know to respect your partner and treat love like the fragile blessing it is. I’ll teach you how to throw a baseball, or not to trust boys. I’ll read books to you in the evening under a soft, dim light until you drift off to sleep, snug against my chest.
All my life has been leading me to you. Even when I was young and stupid and sucking at life and never thinking about you. Through divorce and heartache and mistakes. Everything had a purpose. I learned not to throw anything away. Every broken bottle. Every ex I cried over. Every rough draft. Every torn jean. Every love gone bad. Every slip of the tongue. The stone needs to be chiseled to become a statue. Now I’m not so young and not so stupid and no longer stone. I’m ready for you.
You’ll shit and piss all over me and I’ll wipe your dirty mouth of mac n’ cheese; I’ll put pictures of you in frames above the mantel and bounce you on my knees.
Your first day of school, we’ll be unable to tell who’s more nervous, you or me;
Walking hand-and-hand through the crisp Autumn leaves, time is so slippery.
My beautiful daughter…
My handsome son…
Daddy is waiting.
Just thought you should know.
Art of Starving 