big d-
I was thinking last night while I was putting you back to sleep that this was something I wanted to remember forever.
You were having trouble sleeping because your nose was stuffy. When I picked you up from your crib you quickly curled up, buried your face and went back to sleep. It was special to me because you were so comfortable and so peaceful so quickly. It was a moment to dwell in. As much as I wanted to stay in that moment all night, being your safe haven, I knew I could not. I recognized that each moment would be replaced by the next, and all I could do was hope to remember them as long as possible.
So I wonder about the things that I'll forget. Will I remember your baby smile after it becomes the smile of a little boy, or a man? Will I remember how intently you chewed on your rubby ducky even after you've crashed your first bicycle, or your first car?
As wonderful as these memories continue to be, and with the knowledge that they will unfortunately diminish over time, I find comfort in the anticipation that their replacements will be worthy of their clarity, and wonderful in new and unexpected ways.
dad
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
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