Jan 07
2
Fresh? Call 2007 “Mentos”
2007 has arrived, and the world is still spinning merrily as if nothing happened.
But something [add significantly more emphasis than bold or italics could offer] did [end emphasis] happen.
This is the beginning of my first year as a parent. My first year as a father, role model, provider, nurturer, and demi-god to an adorable little guy with the smiliest eyes I can imagine.
Ok… perhaps that’s a little excessive. I’m not really a nurturer.
As I wake in the morning, I am greeted with the knowledge that all in my little kingdom are well.
I look in on a sleeping Ben in his crib – happily opening and closing his hands at the end of chubby little arms stretched out far above his head. He smiles a little in his sleep and often raises his eyebrows in an expression of pleasant surprise. As much as I want to kiss his forehead and tell him I love him before leaving to hunt for the day I usually blow a quiet kiss rather than risk waking him.
Lin may struggle a little to return to a solid slumber after ‘the wakening’ but she will return to a restful, warm, “snuggled in a duvet” sleep in short order.
While I brush my chompers – Cordelia sneaks onto the bed, crawling to the top of my stack of pillows like a princess (sans pea). Maya shuffles herself listlessly from the closet floor to Lins side of the bed, and they all return to sleep blissfully unaware of my absence.
I pack my toys into the car and open the garage door.
The sun is quivering in the cool morning air – resisting the temptation to get up so early. The solstice has passed now – and every day till summer the daylight will rise earlier in an attempt to pull us from slumber. Perhaps I’ll see a few early mornings at the pond this season, attempting to pull sleepy trout from comfortable holes.
As I drive to work, I see the sun in my rearview, creeping over the urban horizon. Just a few weeks ago I was arriving at the office in total darkness. As the days grow longer, the sun is meeting me ever closer to the time I punch in. In days past I might don a bearskin and hide in a tree ready to fall a deer with a trusty arrow or spear. It is the age of the internets however, and I have traded in my skins for Old Navy and Marks’ Work Wearhouse, and my bow and quiver for a keyboard and an LCD. Either way meat gets to the table.
So I suppose – while the daily routine is the same, it all means something different this year. From the time I blow that kiss to a sleeping boy I am working for him, molding and shaping a world that is safe and warm, just so he can stretch those arms out – and make faces of pleasant surprise.
Looks like it will be a great year.
