Your mom told me that she was pregnant today. She said that we will be parents soon and that you were on the way. It will be many years before you can read this letter and perhaps even longer before you comprehend what I am trying to say, but , my dear child, I want to write these words today, now, at this moment, at the very beginning of your journey, before the combination of days and my weak memory rob me of the feelings having heard the news.
To say that I feel like the luckiest man on Earth, the Happiest man on Earth, the most anxious man on Earth, would be cliches. But those cliches are the absolute truth. I had been confounded the hundreds of times I saw the look on friends' faces and other men when they were told that they would be fathers. I had presumed that their reactions were exaggerated. That they were just being silly running around in circles, hooting and jumping like monkeys. Well it was my turn to go bananas today and I must have topped the best performance of any trained monkey that ever came and perhaps ever will for a very long while.
My dear child,
There are so many things going through my mind that I don't know where to start. There is so much that I want to say and I know it will take a while. The tales and stories I have for you. The lessons that I have been taught living for thirty seven years on this earth before you came. The things I have struggled with and could not yet figure out. So many things to write and tell you about that for the first time ever I am concerned with the longevity of my own life. I want to see you born and be there when you say your first words, take your first step, fall in love, graduate, marry, I want to be there for it all and for that reason a small voice woke up from a long slumber in the back of my head saying "Look out. Beware. Stop those nasty habits. Take care of yourself and don't mess with your health. You need to LIVE! You have no other options. You need to stay alive and watch your child grow."
That little voice, the voice of self preservation is the only voice I hear booming in my head today. It has thwarted all the efforts of the other voices in there that have gone silent for the time being. The voice of thrill seeking. The voice of adventure. The reckless voice of curiosity and the careless voice of indulgence. They have all been silenced. Only the urgent voice of self preservation and the anticipated sound of your first cry in this world fill my imagination.
I am sure the other voices will return after a minor rebate. They have much to say and many stories to tell you in the future. But for now they subsist.
Your Mom is back with the bottle of whisky to celebrate. She's got one glass for me and a what looks like a bottle of juice for her. She's signaling me to step out and join her on the balcony of our apartment flat to celebrate. It's almost midnight and we will talk for hours about you.
I'll tell you all about it soon.
