“The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.” ― Robert Frost One morning when I was 7-years-old, I woke up in the old house and just knew. Crusty eyes/ streaky winter sunshine/ shafts pushing through the cracks in the shades/ bullet holes in the side of the barn/ I knew that nothing was going to remain the same. The years had hardly piled up for me yet, but I don’t think that matters. I was astute as a boy, learning from the obvious, soaking in the more subtle.
I'm estranged from my birth mom, so maybe it's that, but for me also: those moments where my kid leans in by surprise to show me love hit like a train through the chest.
Dear Serge, I think I can say with absolute certainty that you are not and will never be to your children what your dad was to you. Bill
This is beautiful, Serge. Thank you for sharing how you frame the ancient lore of dads and destiny.
I'm estranged from my birth mom, so maybe it's that, but for me also: those moments where my kid leans in by surprise to show me love hit like a train through the chest.