Persephone, light of my life, flesh of my flesh, code of my code. You are one month old today. You don’t do much except sleep and feed and excrete. I thought it would be a lot more work to take care of you, but you’ve been pretty easy so far. (Your mother might have a different opinion, since she’s the one who actually has to feed you every couple hours or so.) You are growing before our eyes. You have barely begun to assert yourself as a person, but I am dazzled by your potential. I love to hold you in my arms and dream of what you might be some day, what you might do. I don’t know what the future holds for you. I don’t particularly care if you’re the strongest, the fastest, the smartest, the most beautiful, the most prosperous, or whatever. I merely hope that you get a chance to fulfill a good fraction of your potential, which is so vast as to be virtually without limit.
One Month
Published inLetters to Persephone
Yeah. That’s how it is. That’s how it will always be. We make adjustments when our expectations collide with their acutalities, but it never abates, only strengthens, if you can imagine such a thing. Beautifully said. Congratulations again, new parents.
That was just beautiful, B. So many parents push and push and push their kids, including mine to this day. I’m so glad they do because they want the best in life for their kids, but forget that their kids need room to breathe, in which to feel safe and to grow from there. I think Persephone will soar and she will have Xy and you to thank for it, because you didn’t push her too much.
I always feel so lucky with my son. I tell him nearly everyday that he is the son I always wanted.
You are going to be a great Dad.
Peace,
Tim