We’re in a bit of a busy season. I’m launching a new project – one that was directly inspired by you and my desire to create a space you’d be proud of. Doesn’t that sound silly and kind of irrational? Seeking a blessing from an infant? It totally is, Bee. But I think you might understand someday.
Being away from you is hard work. It’s the packing of diaper bags and coordinating of schedules and rifling through clean laundry to find something that fits both of us. And then, it’s the glancing of the clock and the wandering of the mind and the sinking, guilty feeling that I’m whittling away our time together doing work that isn’t making a positive impact on the world we live in. The world you’ll grow old in.
I want you to know that I love my work, Bee. But not more than I love you and our family. And these longer hours that I’ve been working are not a reflection of my love and care and absolute obsession with you.
On Saturdays, you and I sometimes sneak out of the house for an early morning breakfast together. We’ll split a muffin and glance at the other sleepy mamas and babies and families with crumbs circling their tables and banana in their ears. And I sometimes let my mind wander – is this what it would be like? If I didn’t pursue this career, would every day be Saturday?
And I stop myself and shake the doubt from my head. The grass is always greener and every day can never be Saturday, and right now, I’m right where I need to be – even if it’s not right next to you.
Indeed, we’re in a busy season. And there will be more. And although my fingers are typing this from a coffee shop, my head is home with you – brushing your fine curls behind your ears, reenacting finger puppets time and time and time again.
Just know this: your parents are creating something larger than themselves. Something that they believe in with all of their hearts and minds and souls – something that they hope will take root and grow into an inspired tree that shelters us all from discontent and anxiety and impossible expectations.
It will shelter you, too, Bee, but in a different way. It will provide stability and strength and everything that comes from being parented by two inspired, fulfilled creatives. And someday soon, when our busy season has passed and our project is released into the world, we’ll spread out a blanket and picnic below this tree we’ve built, basking in the shade of gratitude. And you’ll look up, eyes to the sun, and learn the importance of following your dreams.
You’ll have your own dreams to chase someday, Bee. And it will be your time to type in a coffee shop or a courthouse or a classroom or a third world country. And I’ll be right there, ready to plant your tree with you, brushing your fine curls behind your ears with the same hands that reenact finger puppets time and time and time again.
You bring the shovel, I’ll bring the muffins.