Febuary 27th, 2015 - T-6(hopefully) weeks...

Dear [redacted],

I won’t lie; the servers are down, so here I am. Your mother hopes that by the time you are old enough to read these I won’t still be playing “that game”. No promises. Who knows? Maybe they’ll be on their twelfth x-pac and you’ll be just as into it as I am. I really can’t say, but I imagine that amount of ‘game time’ we’re allowed will be a regular discussion. Your mom and I used to play way too much. Like, if we weren’t at work, or eating, we were gaming. And way less healthy. Of course, eventually, this began to cause arguments, mostly related to the amount of time we spent gaming (particularly when your mom was less into it than I.) But I don’t regret them. I think we ended up stronger because of those arguments. I learned a lot about communicating with your mom through those arguments. There’s better ways to learn that skill.

All I’m saying is there’s gotta be a balance. I have a bit of ADD when it comes to finding things that keep me busy and entertained. As I imagine you will. Maybe I’m just easy. Gaming will always be one. I expect that writing and poetry will continue to be in my life. Then there’s the backpacking. The woodworking. The tinkering. You. Not to mention all of the other things I mentioned in my last letter. But I’ve learned that you also have to be aware that you are important to other people around you. Your attention is important to them, just as you will find their attention important to you.

That sort of awareness, mindfulness, is something that I hope you can learn early. I probably have too many expectations. Just know that I want you to know these things to make it easier on you later. I think I am lucky that your mom and I were such good friends while I was learning these things. I guarantee that at some point in your life you will have the experience of realizing that you were just plain wrong. Sometimes, you have to do REALLY dumb things before you come to that realization. Sometimes, it won’t click even then. But hopefully, at some point, before you cause someone pain (usually yourself), it will click for you. I know, I know. I’m being all cryptic. Some stories are best left for later.

I love you [redacted], kick ass, take names, pay attention to your family. And tell us if we’re not. Because sometimes we’ll be dumb too. Old habits die hard.

Love,

Dad 

February 16th, 2015 - T-8(or so) weeks...

Dear [redacted],

So far we've had a few one sided conversations, we've yet to meet face to face. I suppose we've met face to foot, face to fist? I’m not honestly sure, but you've knocked me around a few times. I don't mind. Somehow I feel like we’re bonding, even with this barrier (placenta and such) between us. I imagine that when I rest my head and neck on your mom’s belly that you can hear (or feel) my heartbeat. Maybe that’s dumb, but I hope it’s not.

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about the years we have to come. The things that I will get to share with you; the memories we've yet to make. I've spent hours hoping that you will enjoy the things that I enjoy, and that they will become things that you and I can do together. There are things that we will do as a family, likely with your future younger siblings too. Family vacations to see your Aunt in North Carolina; trips to Disney Land/World (pending the re-eradication of certain infections diseases). We’ll likely go on hikes, backpacking, see Broadway shows and concerts.

But, mostly in the last few weeks I've been thinking of the geekier things that I hope you will enjoy with me. See [redacted], your father is a bit of a dork. Hopefully one day you will become aware (or we'll be able to convince you) that there is nothing wrong with this. It just means that I am a lover of many things.

I've been thinking lately how totally stoked I’m going to be the first time you play with LEGOs. I’ll teach you the fine art of building spaceships. Not like the instructions tell you to, but how they’re meant to be built. Before they had an instruction booklet to show you how to build an Imperial Battlecruiser, you had to figure that shit out for yourself. First what it looked like in your head and then how you were going to make it out of the random non-matching pieces you had.

But that’s just only the beginning really. I was never a big comic book fan as a kid. I expect though, that had someone exposed me to them back in the day I would have dived in head first. These days I unfortunately only follow the universes through TV shows and movies, but I think that’s something that you and I could do together. So I’m thinking we’ll hit the comic book store on Saturday mornings. We’ll each pick one for the week and we can trade half way through. How about Dungeons & Dragons? I haven’t even tried that one myself, seems like we could have some fun with it.

Did I mention I'm a poet(in training)? In all likelihood growing up you’ll think I work as something like a civil engineer, but the truth is I would rather be writing verse than designing roads and septic systems. Much like your mom is hoping that you might enjoy picking up an instrument one day; I can’t help but hope you’ll at least appreciate the art. I had intended to start reading you poetry while you were still cooking, but I’m thinking maybe I’ll just hit you with some Speakes as part of your bedtime story. 

The thing is I've been waiting to meet you for like eight years. You won’t quite understand how long and short that is until you’re approaching my age (not that 31 is terribly old, though you will think it is for quite a while still). While we waited though, we've had time to have some seriously great adventures. We’re expecting that you will be our greatest yet, and then there will be all of the ones that we get to have together. And so I spend my time imagining them. And then I spend my time imagining the adventures that you will someday have with yours. And then I just become a heaping pile of sap. You’re dad’s a dork kid. I hope you like me.

Love,

Dad