All things are a work in process.
They take time to develop, to unfold into their wonder.
Either terrible or virtuous.
Development
Month: April 2013
Princess
You are my daughter.
A precious, strong and tiny being whose smile weakens my knees.
I dread the day some bloke breaks your heart. Or the moment you stand in front of me, cap and gown with a diploma in your hand. I look into the future and tear up just thinking of your wedding day
Run princess but don’t go too fast.
I Thee Wed
I am your husband.
Each and every day I ceremoniously accept my wedding band on my finger and remind myself that I am yours.
Bound to you by the deepest of feelings, the cherubs you’ve gifted us and passions that are hard to describe.
I am your husband at each and every moment.
Not Yet
I saw you riding your bike the other day with confidence and gusto. You have grown tired of your “trikey” and needed something more.
I cringed the moment you crossed that invisible boundary where I couldn’t run to you and protect you. Your mother and I shouted to “turn around” and “get back here.”
There was that twinkle in your eye as you returned. You had felt the spirit of the road ahead of you and wanted more.
Not yet little one!
I flashed forward a dozen years into the future and felt my heart ache at the thought of handing you the keys to the family wheels.
If only we could keep you behind that line love.
Ces’t la vie!
Nose
During the awkward years I was made to hate my nose. The constant teasing afflicted me so much that I always tried to speak with people face-to-face and never at an angle that may reveal my ugly trunk.
As the years went by my face grew into my nose but every now and then I get an ill feeling that it’s growing again.
To stave that….I try not to lie as much.
The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner
From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from the dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
by Randall Jarrell
Eons
The boulder was ancient already by the time the ancestors experienced the first spark of Truth.
It sat there as they went on to conquer their world.
It sits there still.
Heritage
Son: What’s this?
Me: This is our heritage son. It is part of the story of you. A long story with long epic chapters.
Emotions
Like waves that have traveled hundreds of miles and then meet rocks, the emotions you evoke are a force of nature.
Over time they have carved and shaped my soul.
Slowly eroding the rough and giving me a smooth polish.
I am better for knowing you and for loving you.
Chosen Path
It was all very clear.
The path chosen lead to predictable and sensible results. Deadlines, cues, certain steps had to be taken and we’d find ourselves at journey’s end realized and content.
That was the plan anyhow!
Then they came.
Smiles, tears, sensations that were never accounted for started to confuse our compass.
Now we find ourselves on a different direction with a pace unaccounted for.
I wouldn’t change it for the world, or them for that matter.
