To my son Henry, on your second birthday.

August 15, 2010

You are two years old, a little guy in short pants, and a perpetual smile. I don't know if you tried hard to do this, but you've given me the fullest year of my life. How on earth do I thank you for that?

I could buy you many things. I'd be happy to spend every penny I have on you. But no thing could ever be big enough or expensive or rare enough to equal what you give me. I'm helpless to show you how much my heart has grown since you became my boy. I hope someday this note repays just a little of the debt of gratitude I owe you.

This year I lost two good friends. One of them was fortunate to have enough time, before he died, to write letters to each of his children to tell them how much they meant to him. At first I thought "how could you possibly express that?" Now, my only worry is that I won't come up with enough ways to say it.

In a life that seemed like recurring cycles of longing, belonging, loss & regret, I never could allow myself to look forward to the future. The future for me always loomed like an unsettling and somewhat dark unknown. You have completely and utterly changed that. Now that you are a part of this world, the future is already here. You've pulled me headlong into it. And it's a great place.

With you, I escape time by living right now, the past and future ceasing to exist. Nothing has ever gladdened my heart like seeing you smile the moment you wake up and realize there is a new day to greet. I don't know what amazes me more: the look of wonder in your eyes or your boundless capacity to feel that wonder. In two short years you've already taught me a good many things. I hope to keep learning from you.

You were born on my birthday, as though we were destined to be two class clowns or marble shooters or beer stein hoisters on our day. For your mom and me, you made becoming parents less traumatic than we thought it would be. You had that big, pleasant Henry personality from the earliest months, which really helped to get us through that first year. We thank you for that. But in this past year that laughing, smiling baby has grown into a boy.

I try not to think about you as an adult, because I could only project my own hopes and idealized image of you, out there in the blue and on your own. You are too unique and so incredibly YOU, for me to want you to be anything other than happy. I don't care if you become a Nobel Laureate, a jackhammer operator or a ballerina. All I ever want for you is to feel happy and satisfied that your life is worthwhile and good. Life can be tough, Henry. You'll take some hits that might shake your confidence. But never forget that you are Rocky and I am Mickey the boxing trainer, always in your corner, always cheering your next round.

Don't live for others' expectations of you. Do your own thing, Henry: Make a noise. See the world. See every damn thing. And never forget how much I love you, buddy boy. Now and forever.

I can't wait to grow up with you. No matter what happens, I know we're going to have a lot of fun.

Your dad.