This morning, I found myself in most wonderful circumstances. The house was empty, save for my baby boy and me. After feeding him, I carried him on my shoulder to burp him. I sat down on a sofa near a window. The weather was cool and a flock of birds decided it was nice cool weather for them as well. They chirped outside, unmindful of how late into the morning it was. As my baby lay on my shoulder half-asleep, he sighed twice. Then it hit me so suddenly! My heart swelled with pride and love. I was taking care of this little child who will one day be a man like myself.

As I was holding him, I realized how fragile he was. He needed me to protect and take care of him. I heard myself wish we could be like this forever. Boys grow, and soon forget their fathers. I’ve been there. I hope that he won’t forget me when he grows up. I hope he’ll remember the mornings I carried him in my arms and felt proud to have been his father. I hope he remembers how much I loved him when it’s his turn to carry his own son in his loving arms. I hope he remembers . . . That much would be enough.