My Father...My Son..

I remember the day you were born

so tiny, with perfect features, all fingers

intact, your tiny bud mouth open in a wail,

your eyes lost in the fierceness  of

your cry, waving your little fists in anger..

ready to take on the world…

I remember the feel of your little body

as it was placed in my rough hands

and the fierce sense of protectiveness

I suddenly felt for you, as you stopped

crying and stared into my face..the feeling

and responsibility of being your father…

I remember you learning to walk, holding

on to my fingers, your first birthday, your first

haircut, your first fall, the skinned knee

your magical smile, as I kissed it better..

the way you simply let go as you jumped into

my arms, trusting me to hold you…

I remember your first day at school, crying

to see me go, feeling I had abandoned you..

the bouts of fever which scared me, the sleepless

nights, your calling out for me in dreamy fright…

your unquestioning faith in me to put things right

your little hand in mine always pulling me on…

I remember how grown up you felt when

I let you go out on your own, when you dressed up

without help for the first time, when you learnt to

ride the bicycle, when you started deciding what

you want to wear, or what you want to eat…

making decisions as a part of growing up….

I remember all the various ‘firsts’ of your life

as they made you into an individual, slowly

taking your steps away from me…moving

into a different world, where I may not always

be around to put things right or kiss hurts away..

yet feeling fulfilled that I did the best I could do…

I remember the feeling of emptiness as you

left home in the pursuit of your dreams…

Now you are a father, you feel my pain and

understand all that I went through with you…

holding my gnarled fingers as I struggle to walk

You become my father, and I your son….

picture courtesy:http://creativewriting.ie/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/prompt-20.jpg