Thursday, October 15, 2009

The Watcher

It's midnight and I watched you sleeping. Quiet - fragile - repose. I see you every day so it's almost like I can't tell, but I remember you much smaller. It's like other children I once knew, but they're all you. It was a moment ago, but in the grand scheme of things it's like I am living the entire industrial revolution through from Horses to Space Shuttles. You are a century away from the babies that kept me up all night. You're beautiful and intelligent and self aware. Learning at a speed I can only dream about. Unencumbered - free - sojourning. I spare no toil to raise you right - the effort from which has aged me ten years.

My boys.


I know one day you'll be men. But for now I am the watcher.


Good Night.

Monday, October 12, 2009

How Can Two Halves Of Me Be So Different?

Logan,

When you were in mommies tummy I wrote an online journal for your mom and I recently read it again. Needless to say, some entries got me thinking. In the blog I write about Gavin and I praying for you to be a healthy little brother and how Gavin would kiss mommies tummy every night and how I imagined you sitting next to Gavin watching TV. It must explain that little flutter I feel in my heart when I see you two next to each other resting and watching TV. In another entry I think I found the reason you like when daddy rubs your back and why your most commonly used word was "book" right before bed. Finally, did you know that the place we went camping for your birthday was a place I first wrote about when you were in mommies tummy?

So many things to write about, but it's so easy just to sit back and enjoy you when I should be writing some of these things down. I will try to be more dilligent.

Love,
Daddy