15 months, nearly 16 at the time of this writing. It’s been fun and amazing for sure, and certainly kept me busy. It’s insane how much he’s learning and understanding and at such a rapid pace. He’s been such a joy in my life that every time I look into his eyes I see hope, light, promise, and future. And I certainly try to reflect the same back to him, but sometimes I get the sense he can see through me, deep into the darkness below. You see, there’s certainly enough darkness to go around. Darkness in the news, darkness in adapting to this new home, darkness in the sky (although that’s getting better as we move into Spring), darkness in some relationships, like I said, more than enough. That two admittedly fucked up adults can come together in love and create someone so perfect is beyond comprehension to me. His life is so pure, so innocent, that he doesn’t deserve to be affected by it. Hell, I don’t think I deserve him sometimes. So I put on a brave face, strap on my big-boy pants, and try to shift the narrative.
Being with him, observing him, and looking into his eyes help. As much as he needs me and depends on me as a child when I’m with him, I almost need him more. I need him to show me that light, shine a bit of it on me as I bask in his innocence, curiosity, and wonderment at discovering new things. It’s almost addictive; without his light a void remains, a reminder of what I am and what I am not. The constant push-pull struggle is still there, right underneath the surface. I want to be the role model for him, yet I don’t want him to be me. I am flawed; I am lots of things I don’t want to be and certainly don’t want him to be. But then a small sliver of light shows up through a simple hug, a snuggle, “da-da” in his soft beautiful voice, or climbing over my legs and plopping in my lap to read books. In this moment at least I am doing the right thing, I am doing right by him, and the darkness recedes gently like the tide.
I think I’ll just enjoy this little bit of light right now until the tide rolls back in.