A Wind Blows, But I Stay

I withdrew my candidacy for the Consular Fellows position at the state department. It was hard—I really wanted to do this, but I’m done running. There’s no point in it. The wind blows; let it blow, but I can’t take flight with it anymore.

I am here. **Ham sa**

I can stand here and be a father and weather the wind … be weathered by it.

Who is you J?

I’m the father of two little girls, first.

And I want to take flight and travel the world like I did in my twenties, but that is not a life for a child. They need stability. So now, I won’t write in the rainforest, dive from waterfalls, snorkel in the open ocean, or wade through the mud in torrential rains (at least not carefree and wild).

Instead, I’ll sit in the twilight, in my little villa, looking out at the calm waters of my blue-green lake and wonder why the wind has changed directions but I’m still here. I’ll stuff the back-pack that I once bused through South America with hurricane supplies and important documents in case we have to evacuate. I’ll worry about daycare, before and aftercare, grades, allergies, fevers, and college tuition.

But, I’ll also soak in the moments of morning bliss, cuddling, in a sea of sheets, on our bed. I’ll smile at the little wonders of parenthood: a spontaneous “I love you,” a tearful hug, a giggle at discovering a new bug, a why with no answer. A memory bubbling forth that I thought she would never remember. The fights and separations, the time-outs, and the “go to your rooms.” The little hands curling on my one massive finger. The elation of the first cry. The pounding— thump, thump, thump—of the heartbeat.

I’ll stand in the wind.