I See Daddies

December 7, 2017

Dearest Solomon,

I’m writing on the long, 15-hour flight back home from Singapore. I’ve been on a quick, last trip for the year — a rapid, 48-hour turnaround that most would likely consider crazy.

For the few years previous to this, life was the exact opposite of this year. Instead of spending the 60% of my time on the road, this year was a much needed and welcome change of pace. My time home, with you, with your mom, and with a predictably boring routine has been amazing. It’s a simple pleasure you can’t appreciate until they’re taken from you.

Seeing your rapid growth and development this year is only more obvious whenever I have a moment away to reflect on it in comparison. Parenthood can be tiring, I can’t lie. Most days, the same simplicity of routine can seem overrun with the frustration of schedules, sacrifices and the occasional screaming. But it’s the little things that remind you what it’s all worth.

This morning, I was chatting with your mom, catching up about how things are going, how you were, what’s up next. I asked, as we both do whenever we’re away, “Did he miss me?” Your mom assured me that, of course, you did. She noted that, while you didn’t overly say it, you were much more “cuddly” — clearly a win for her.

Just before I took off today, though, your mom texted me:

“Aww papa was just: I see daddies”
He does miss you!

Gush. I think every parent must hope for the sign that they are loved and missed — hell, what human doesn’t? When you have your children, you’ll understand just how much you can pour and invest emotionally into another person. When you get that first sign that they love you back, you’ll understand what it’s all for.

This isn’t the first time, of course. I still remember returning the first time a year ago when you hugged my leg. And I remember you taking your first step for me just before I left for another trip. You’ve never let me down, son. But today, it was different.

All the other times were physical or some other kind of developmental milestone. But this time, it was intentional. It was you, as a person, feeling something all on your own and sharing that with someone else. Maybe I’m making a mountain of a mole hill, but that’s different and special all on its own.

It ain’t much, I know, but it’s pretty damn awesome. Thank you for making my long ride home just a little more happy. I see Daddies, I love you. Same difference :)

Love always,

Dad

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