You can feel its effects, but you will never see it. It may fly, drag, or heal old wounds.
Something that you hardly notice until you are either out of it or the alarm clock announces it. Passage of it can be measured in both minutiae and enormity. It changes the present us by reshaping the old us. Without it, there can be no history . . . or future. It’s time.
58 months. A measure of time. The duration of my fatherhood. With youth we grow up, with age we grow wiser. The man that raised a baby was essentially a responsible pet owner in many ways. My job was to feed, water, clothe, wash, and try to make the crying stop. Time was measured in minutes back then, as his naps were two hours long and his awakenings were of equal duration. Time to feed. Time to change a diaper. Time to pull out my hair. Time for the next nap. Time for me to get my things done. A tempo, a pulse, a timer. 58 months ago was not a fun time.
58 months. I honestly do not remember those months. They were both a blur and a drag at the same time. Only the camera is around to trigger memories of what is supposed to be the most memorable thing that an adult can be a part of. We love one another and with time the bond has grown. In the early months, I am not sure if he loved me or just needed me, but I will never know if I actually did love him at all. We both cried often, but for very different reasons. Maybe it was just the circumstances or my unpreparedness; either way I knew it was going to take a lot of growing on my part to change that. It would take time. Time has made him grow up, and time has made me more appreciative of what I have the privilege of raising—Demon Beast child.
58 months ago I was a different person. I can now say I am ready to be a teacher, not just a responsible pet owner parent. He can articulate his emotions and now his tears actually mean something. The challenges have changed, but they have remained a constant. I could not be the me of now had it not been for the passage of so many months. I do not care what I say or to whom. If I offend, I am at ease. Crotchety, callous, and cynical, but also content and calm, and collected. A babe has softened and wizened an elder.
He goes to school now. He took off his training wheels this past Spring. He was run over by a stationary bicycle on Navy Pier in Chicago. He asks questions (entirely too many in my opinion), he can dress and feed himself, he has friends and sleepovers. He can give love back. Relationships require two sharing beings that can check their egos at the door. These things were not possible 58 months ago. Neither of us were ready. Time cultivated these personalities. Time has sculpted a bond that HAD to be forged with bad times and unpleasantness. Time also healed by making us both different people and responsive to another.
Time to find the boy a mama. I have to practice my new found skills of caring and acting like I care.
