As I'm holding you in my arms, I realize how much you've grown. Soon you'll be a child, a boy, a man. It only takes a moment, before the days of innocence are lost. I think about all of the things you must learn, or I must teach you, before you cross into the unforgiving grip of reality, and face the world on your own.
I will teach you how to walk, and swim, and ride a bike. We'll play catch, roast marshmallows, and fish till it's dark. I'll tell you stories of my past. You'll tell me plans for your future. We'll take trips, and see old friends, and keep secrets from your mother. While these moments may stand still, the clock keeps on ticking.
I can't wait for basketball games. I'll teach you everything I know. We'll put up a hoop in the driveway, and a light to lead the way. Your mom will call you in to eat, I'll convince her just 10 minutes more. I'll watch from the window as you practice, critiquing your every move. In the end I'll just smile, your just like me in every way.
I'll do my best to guide you son. I hope I don't let you down. I'll always tell you the truth, no matter the pain it might cause. I want you to stand up for what's right, and have faith in what you believe. I'll teach you right from wrong, and forgive you for your mistakes. I can only hope when all is said and done, that you have learned as much from me, as I will learn from you.
Time will tell the job I've done. One day you'll be on your own. A job. A family. A place to call home. The need for my approval will slowly fade away, as the choices you make, are of yours and yours alone.
As I'm holding you now in my arms, I realize how much you've grown. Time stands still for no man. I just wish, it would slow down.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Gone Fishing
I'll never forget the excitement, and anticipation of a fishing trip with my Dad. Every year, Dad, Uncle Carroll, Uncle Kelly, and myself traveled north a few hours up to Fairbault, MN to escape the challenges of everyday life. A lot of kids my age at that point in time would want nothing to do with a trip like this. 4 days spent with your Dad and family members trapped on a boat in the middle of a lake with nothing to do but talk. Me? I loved it. I looked forward to it. I miss it.
We never got up too early. We always stayed up too late. There were days we would hardly fish, and some when we would fill the buckets. There was one thing guaranteed. Laughter. I remember laughing myself to tears listening to stories of Dad and Carroll growing up. Meeting "the locals" in the cabins next door. Exploring new bars and restaurants in "downtown" Fairbault. And of course, having a beer with your Dad for the first time.
We haven't gone on a trip in many years. I'd be interested to explore our old stomping grounds now. See what's changed, what's stayed the same. Dad and I always talk about taking a few trips and "getting back" into fishing. Maybe this is the year. Maybe it's time. Maybe, it's long overdue.
We never got up too early. We always stayed up too late. There were days we would hardly fish, and some when we would fill the buckets. There was one thing guaranteed. Laughter. I remember laughing myself to tears listening to stories of Dad and Carroll growing up. Meeting "the locals" in the cabins next door. Exploring new bars and restaurants in "downtown" Fairbault. And of course, having a beer with your Dad for the first time.
We haven't gone on a trip in many years. I'd be interested to explore our old stomping grounds now. See what's changed, what's stayed the same. Dad and I always talk about taking a few trips and "getting back" into fishing. Maybe this is the year. Maybe it's time. Maybe, it's long overdue.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Just another Monday
It's 6:30. Light has yet to peak through the blinds in my bedroom. My alarm is ringing and my wife starts to stir next to me. Another 10 minutes maybe...."Wake up Josh, get the kids up and ready." My heart sinks to my stomach, and I realize..it's Monday. I hate, Mondays.
"Wake up baby girl. It's time for school." Another 10 minutes maybe... "Up and dressed let's go!" They scramble from the bed to the kitchen table. Breakfast. Check. Dressed. Check. Teeth brushed. Check. Coats, hats, gloves, shoes. Check. "Ready Daddy!" My heart sinks further. It's time to go.
We start our journey, hot cup of coffee in hand. "Can you turn it up Daddy?" Katy Perry is on the radio. She loves Katy Perry. As if Monday's weren't bad enough. My mind wanders as we make the trek through the back roads of northwest Iowa. The kids are singing and dancing in the backseat, while I struggle through the first scalding hot sips of gas station coffee. My chest feels tight. It's hard to smile this morning. Hard to breathe. More coffee.
"Park over there Daddy!" I hear the recess bell ring as we get out of the car. She struggles with her backpack and races towards the front doors. He grabs my hand and tries to move me along. I look around and notice all of the other parents dropping their children off at school. I wonder if they hate Mondays as much as I do. I wonder how many of them, have the same sickening feeling in their stomach as I do. The second bell rings. She puts her stuff in her locker and starts gabbing with her friends. I stand across the hall, listening to the anticipation in her voice, so excited to start another week. She turns to run into the room. As I grab my son's hand and turn to leave, I hear her voice. "Daddy!" I turn around and run right into the waiting arms of the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. "I love you Daddy. I'll miss you." She disappears into the classroom, skipping the entire way. One down. One to go. More coffee.
Back in the car, Bruno Mars is rattling the change in the cup holder. My son sings along and moves his head to the beat. I pull into the driveway. Get out of the car Josh, I think to myself. It's time. He grabs my hand and leads me up the steps to the door. We're greeted by the sound of kid's laughing and music playing. Hat. Check. Gloves. Check. Coat. Check. I feel his tiny arms wrap around my legs. "I love you Daddy. See you later." "Love you Buddy. Be good."
Back in the car. Silence. The radio is off. There's no singing. No dancing. No backseat driving. I sit in the driveway, finish the last of my coffee, and stare around the car at the empty seats. 7 days. 7 days before the next Monday. 7 days before I have to make the journey through northwest Iowa. 7 days, before I have to feel the sting of letting go again. Sunglasses. Check. Seat belt. Check. Coffee. I'm out of coffee. I hate, Mondays.
"Wake up baby girl. It's time for school." Another 10 minutes maybe... "Up and dressed let's go!" They scramble from the bed to the kitchen table. Breakfast. Check. Dressed. Check. Teeth brushed. Check. Coats, hats, gloves, shoes. Check. "Ready Daddy!" My heart sinks further. It's time to go.
We start our journey, hot cup of coffee in hand. "Can you turn it up Daddy?" Katy Perry is on the radio. She loves Katy Perry. As if Monday's weren't bad enough. My mind wanders as we make the trek through the back roads of northwest Iowa. The kids are singing and dancing in the backseat, while I struggle through the first scalding hot sips of gas station coffee. My chest feels tight. It's hard to smile this morning. Hard to breathe. More coffee.
"Park over there Daddy!" I hear the recess bell ring as we get out of the car. She struggles with her backpack and races towards the front doors. He grabs my hand and tries to move me along. I look around and notice all of the other parents dropping their children off at school. I wonder if they hate Mondays as much as I do. I wonder how many of them, have the same sickening feeling in their stomach as I do. The second bell rings. She puts her stuff in her locker and starts gabbing with her friends. I stand across the hall, listening to the anticipation in her voice, so excited to start another week. She turns to run into the room. As I grab my son's hand and turn to leave, I hear her voice. "Daddy!" I turn around and run right into the waiting arms of the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. "I love you Daddy. I'll miss you." She disappears into the classroom, skipping the entire way. One down. One to go. More coffee.
Back in the car, Bruno Mars is rattling the change in the cup holder. My son sings along and moves his head to the beat. I pull into the driveway. Get out of the car Josh, I think to myself. It's time. He grabs my hand and leads me up the steps to the door. We're greeted by the sound of kid's laughing and music playing. Hat. Check. Gloves. Check. Coat. Check. I feel his tiny arms wrap around my legs. "I love you Daddy. See you later." "Love you Buddy. Be good."
Back in the car. Silence. The radio is off. There's no singing. No dancing. No backseat driving. I sit in the driveway, finish the last of my coffee, and stare around the car at the empty seats. 7 days. 7 days before the next Monday. 7 days before I have to make the journey through northwest Iowa. 7 days, before I have to feel the sting of letting go again. Sunglasses. Check. Seat belt. Check. Coffee. I'm out of coffee. I hate, Mondays.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Getting Started
Once again inspired by my mother's ambition, here I am, blogging. There are so many things that have happened the past 3 years, I feel the need to create room in my mind. The memories of triumph and failure. Disappointment and regret. Pride and satisfaction. All have stared me in the face lately. All have challenged me to keep evolving.
I'm a first time husband, 3rd time Dad, first time uncle, and forever grateful son. Each of these has brought it's own challenges, which is why I'm starting this blog. If not for other people to read, maybe to convince myself of reality...
I'm a first time husband, 3rd time Dad, first time uncle, and forever grateful son. Each of these has brought it's own challenges, which is why I'm starting this blog. If not for other people to read, maybe to convince myself of reality...
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