Dear Evan –
A boy and his dog
I’ve probably mentioned before — I’m just too lazy to look — how you’ve ruined me for horror. And kids in peril? I wouldn’t even bat an eyelash.
And now. Now I get home from work, and you squeal my name and grin a huge toothy grin and jump into my arms. We play Candy Land and, your favorite, Star Wars Sorry! and always Legos.
You creep into bed with me, no matter how many times I take you back to your own, and scootch so that your feet are touching my back, a reassurance. And I grumble, but it’s a reassurance to me too.
So I can’t be down with scary stories any more where a kid is in danger, or disappears, or is taken over by some demon, and right now that feels like it’s all the horror movies.
I look into your bright blue eyes and listen to your breathless stories about where your Lego creations fit in the Star Wars universe and almost cry because I brought you into a world where entire species are dying off and temperatures are rising and I can’t even let you ride your bike alone around the neighborhood like I once did.
I’m doing better at the fatherhood thing. I’m raising you right, or at least raising you to love everyone and clearly draw the line between right and wrong. I may have instilled a love in you for pepperoni and pineapple pizzas, but I feed you pretty well most of the time.
I don’t have a point here. I don’t have a lesson I’ve learned. We talk so much every day that I just wanted to talk with future you. I need to reach out more often. And I think I can tell you why soon. Future you, that is.
Anyway,
I love you,
Daddy
