There’s real joy in seeing those you’re close to and those you’ve known forever come upon these milestones and landmarks in life — it almost feels like some sense of accomplishment even though it’s not my life and I didn’t do shit. But still, it feels pretty good.
It’s also nostalgic in a way. My son is only 12 years old, but 12 years might as well be dog years with how long ago all of this was with me and him. The more I think about what to write, the more memories swell to the surface about those 12 fleeting years. I’m fortunate that I have a few videos of him — if I didn’t, I wouldn’t remember what he sounded like when he was 4. I have boxes of film negatives of him, those I’ll hold on to forever. But photos of just the two of us are rare — I wish I had more.
And because I’ve had a kid, I feel that knee-jerk impulse to overwhelm Katy and Nick with advice — I didn’t and I won’t, I’m sure they’ve heard it a million times by now. I take that back. The advice I’d give is to acknowledge that fact that you will fuck up. Having kids is a big deal, and it’s tough to do it the right way — the way that puts your child before any interest of your own. And because it can be so hard, and because we’re human, you’re going to fuck up — you’ll do or say things in the heat of the moment that you immediately regret, but you can’t take them back. You have to learn to forgive yourself. If your faults and shortcomings as a parent aren’t habitual, your kids will forget your sleep-deprived shout real quick — but you won’t. That dreadful lapse will sear itself into your memory and you won’t forget it, but you’ve got to forgive yourself for it.
Take pictures, record videos, capture memories of them — it’s all you’ll have some day. These are a handful of my favorite frames we captured on a very hot and humid morning.
I can’t wait to meet Bodie.