Dear Rooster: My First Letter to My Son
Dear Rooster,
Your dad and I have just finished packing our bag for the hospital. It’s sitting against a wall in our bedroom that will soon be your bedroom too. I’ll warn you, it gets pretty sunny early in the morning and some nights you might hear anything from fireworks to mating cats to wailing schizophrenics outside our window, but you don’t need to worry because your dad and I will be right next to you and if we can get used to it, so can you. Don’t worry, it’s not for long. You’ll find very few things in life last for very long which is why it’s important to always be prepared even though there’s a lot in life you just can’t prepare for. Either way, I’ve probably overpacked our overnight bag and I don’t care.
Tonight, your dad is at work and I’m sitting alone in our kitchen thinking about when we first got to California, when we’d sit across the table from each other making our way through a couple bottles of wine, plotting our future and talking in the non-stop way we do that you’ll soon get used to. We didn’t talk about you until early July. I first suspected I might be carrying you while I let my mind wander during a San Jose Giants minor league baseball game. You’ll find that there’s nothing quite like the sight of a baseball diamond at night. The outdoor stadium lights tend to give the evening a dreamlike quality and I guess it was then, underneath that light that I dared to think that you were already here with me.
At the time, your dad was working at a breakfast joint called Bill’s that he hated. Now he works at a restaurant in Los Gatos where they sell Neapolitan-style pizza and craft cocktails and he likes it much better, although I think it’s time he opened a place of his own.
I was working at a tech company, the only reason we’re in California in the first place, that I’d soon find out had sold me a bill of goods. There is no drain on the spirit like working a job you don’t like and luckily for you, I won’t be when you arrive. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be or do and it worries me. I’m hoping that your new life will be our family’s new beginning and that somewhere in the haze between late night feedings and cuddling your tiny body, I’ll find my way.
In our kitchen, there is a small jar about a quarter full of dirt we gathered from Texas before setting out to California. We gathered it in case you’d arrive before we’d make it back home so that I might christen your feet with it. Your dad thinks this is funny and goes along with it as he does many of my ideas. That’s one of the things I love about your dad — his willingness.
You can ask your dad to do just about anything and he’ll go along with it even if it doesn’t always make sense to him. For example, I asked him to make sure to mark your foot with a black Sharpie marker as soon as you leave my belly so that you don’t get mixed up with another baby at the hospital and although he thought this idea wasn’t one of my best, I feel like he would’ve if I insisted.
You might be curious about your name. Everyone else seems to be.
We’re naming you Rooster because it’s the best name your dad and I could agree on. I like to think of you as rousing the sun, our little day breaker guiding us into a new day where anything can happen. You’ll find that sometimes in life some days will feel long before your feet hit the ground and while I hope you don’t have too many of those kinds of days, I hope you can hold on to the possibility that each day holds. It’s important to have something to look forward to in life.
We’re giving you the middle name Elliott because it’s the name of the boy in the movie E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial, one of my favorites. I hope you are as curious, compassionate and fervent as he is.
Be good. That’s something E.T. says in the movie and for now, it’s the best advice I can give you starting out. Believe it or not, not everyone thinks this way, nor is everyone good. However, if you can remember that you’re good, you’ll be inclined to treat other people with kindness, whether they’re good or not.
Things you should also know? Always stand up for yourself and others. Feel free to change your mind. Remember that it’s okay to be wrong. And always try to keep an open mind and an open heart. Again, don’t worry, you have time to learn these things and I’m happy to help you. In fact, you can ask me anything. Really, anything.
Some nights when he falls asleep before me and some mornings when I wake up before he does, I look at your dad and I cannot believe how lucky I am that he is my person and that together we made you. I search his face for clues wondering what you’ll look like, which mannerisms of his you’ll pick up. At those moments, my heart fills itself with some kind of feeling greater than love.
I also wonder which parts of me will stick. Of course, I’m hoping you’ll get the best from both of us, but I’m also hoping that you’ll continue to help teach me how to love and accept myself a little better, flaws and all.
We have just over twenty more days left like this — you sitting impatiently inside of me, me sitting here grunting, grumbling and moaning from places like our kitchen table, our couch, and our bed. I’m not going to lie, I’m uncomfortable and I’m not quite sure that I’m ready, but the one thing I do know is that I love you more than I’ve loved anything and while a lot of things will change, that won’t, not ever, not even a little bit.
See you soon.
Love,
Mom
