When I first started off as a father, I was like a climbing rock: durable, constant, capable of bearing heavy loads.
As my children mature, I find I am more the attendant. I watch their events, I monitor their behavior, I whisk away what is unwanted, be it spiders, dirty dishes, tears, anxiety.
In time they will be independent. I will hover around, like a ghost, a memory, reminding them of what is good in them and their past. I will be there but not there.
This is the life of fathers.
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Written on my BlackBerry Handheld to my old Posterous blog, October 12 2011, 7:34 PM
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