Dear Evan:
A quick, heartwarming story to begin: We were playing this past weekend, you sitting with me cross-legged behind you on the thick brown shag rug in your room. You reached for a block, and overcorrected or something, and landed gently headfirst on the rug. Not enough to hurt you, but enough to surprise you. You squeaked indignantly and then — my heart hurts to type this — turned and laid your head gently on my knee. That was it; a quick hug, and you were ready to play again.
I don’t see you enough, so those little moments that remind me I’m your daddy are moments I cherish.
I’ve written it before, and will again, but I hope that someday, reading these letters, you have a sense of how difficult that can be. Especially now, when you’re mobile and interested in everything and learning every day, I wish we had more time together. But the more I work now, the better your life — all of our lives — will be down the road.
Over the past week or so, you’ve learned to dance. You already laughed and snorted when we danced together, me holding you, bouncing up and down while your mommy waved her arms and shook her head. Now you join in, bouncing while you sit or stand, shaking your own head, grinning from ear to ear.
Sometimes, you dance when we dance. Sometimes, you dance to music from the television. And sometimes, as your mommy witnessed two days ago, you dance to some internal music, when there’s nothing else around to hear.
That’s even more impressive when compared to the way you came into this world. La brought home copies of some older pictures yesterday, one of which was taken right after your birth. There’s almost no resemblance between that long, thin, jaundiced almost alien creature, wrapped as it is in wires but otherwise naked, and the tall, big-bellied, smiling boy you are now.
When I sat next to your incubator crib in the hospital, I whispered to you about the healthy Grieser genes, about how infrequently we get sick and how long we live. I told you, willed into your sleeping ears, how strong you were and would be. And here you are, just three weeks from being one year old, strong and healthy and happy and smart.
I love you,
Daddy
