An awareness of one’s frailty and mortality
All swaddled in a tiny package.
Which looks a little bit like you
Well, she does have your forehead.
Sleep becomes a memory.*
Like remember that one time
When we slept for 6 hours
That was amazing.
I don’t know if I’m made for this
If only I could be like Andy Griffith or Cliff Huxtable
Plus the ever present fear of dropping her, or dropping the ball
Until she looks at you, and it all fades away.
They say daddy’s treat their daughters different.
Boys get the roughhouse, girls get the dollhouse;
She’s got my whole world in her hands,
I’ve got Mr. Louisville Slugger in mine, ready for some idiot boy in 16yrs.
Our ease which keeps it all moving smoothly.
The spoonful of beautiful sugar which helps the medicine go down.
Watching her care for our child
Is like watching the sun care for an earth crying for it’s light.
For friends and family, for blessings and struggles
For a community of hope, digital and analog.
Thank you for your prayers and positive vibes,
Thank you for helping these new parents as we figure it all out.
*I’m telling you, I think there were a couple of nights I was sleep walking. I have vague memories of being in the studio and just standing there with the light on in the middle of the night. And there were several times items from the bathroom found their way onto the dresser, with vague memories of me putting it there. Just saying…[Poem #5 of 30 and my monthly transparency report.]