double rainbow
When I came home from work tonight, my partner handed me a beautiful plate of homemade food, and my daughter squealed & ran to hug me. Perfect, right?
Perfect except for the fact that her squeal spiked my blood pressure and his soup had parmesan & honey in it. Honey & parmesan in sweet potato & squash soup, really?
“I love you, Mommy. Mona jump on your tummy! Tickle tickle!”
All I could think was, Get off my ribs, sit down, and watch this cartoon quietly with me. NOW.
And then I realized who I was–I was the cliche American father arriving home, putting his briefcase by the door, loosening his necktie, and leaning back in the recliner to watch TV. The day had been so long and unpleasant that even the beauty of my brilliant and loving little family couldn’t dig me out of my hole.
I can’t be that guy.
That guy who calls himself a dad but spends zero time with his kids. That guy who wastes the little time he has with his family being grumpy and authoritarian and distracted rather than reveling in every little giggle and every romantic caress.
I should be grateful for the funky squash soup and the tiny feet jumping on my tummy. People wait their whole lives for what I have, and sometimes never even find it. And I have it–waiting for me at the end of every shitty work day, at the end of every late night & early morning study session, and after every time I forget to be immensely grateful for their very existence.
I love you Jake & Ramona.
