When I was a kid, I was scared all the time. I hid it though, at least I think I did. I used to have dreams about the end of the world, or sometimes about losing my parents. School scared me, and I used to get picked on sometimes. Maybe it was the curse of being an only child, one of those blessings in disguise because it helped to form me into the person I am today. Yet, as a child I was definitely scared, and I wonder sometimes if my son is scared too.
He's getting big. He's only two and a half, but he's taller than some three year-olds, and that often confuses people. Salem is like a brand new little kid who is discovering the world through very young eyes. I love to see him explore and interact with his environment and even people around him. The other day he was pumped to get this new toy (I think it was an RV with a trailer, one that came with dinosaur bones and other archeologist things), and he was showing it to everybody in the store on the way out. I love when he does that. His voice is changing and he's developing a great way to communicate with people. God, I love that kid.
Am I still scared? I don't know.. I haven't asked myself that question in a long time. I'm happy and I'm scared to lose that happiness sometimes. I try not to live in fear, but it follows me around. Having a child makes you put your own thoughts on hold for a while, and it's only in those rare moments of laying on the floor in an empty and quiet house that you get to talk with yourself for a while. What am I doing? Am I doing a good job? I sure hope so. Maybe I am scared sometimes, but I'm working on it. Even as I write this, I begin to think of my doubts. I'm worried about my job, my health, my loved ones, etc., but here I am, keeping on keeping on. I think I'm doing a pretty good job.
No comments:
Post a Comment