Happy 4th Birthday, E!

E,

I cannot believe you’re FOUR. True, it feels like a blink ago that I was walking to get the car so I could take you and Mommy home from the hospital. I’ll always remember the chills I got (and still do) when I imagined getting to show and guide you through this big, amazing world.

What I didn’t realize that day was how much of the world you were going to show me. Though the task of capturing this in words feels impossible, I’m going to try…as it’s in the nature of these semi-sappy birthday blog posts (hey, it’s once a year…a Daddy gets to be semi-sappy in public once a year).

Every night, just before I crawl into bed, I peek in at you sleeping. For that moment or two, I try to remember ‘a sand grain memory’ from the day (my term, feel free to plagiarize). Let me explain: I focus on a single moment that I shared with you that day – what happened, how it made me feel, the other sensations around us, etc. These grains are snapshots of how, in some little way, you shaped me that day. It’s a tiny thing, but in a relentless continuum, it’s an epic force.  It’s “a Sahara sand dune being moved one grain at a time” –type of thing. It’s not that you define who I am, it’s just that you’re such an influence in shaping who I’ve become and who I will be.

For instance, last night, I thought about how you wanted me to do ‘funny things’ while helping you get your PJs zipped up. We were in your room. Your hair was still damp from the bath. You didn’t have your glasses on, so I could see the crinkled, delighted edges of your bright blue eyes. You smelled like J&J tear-free body wash and shampoo. The huge smile hardened your cheeks. And you even bounced because you were so excited for my upcoming comedy.

Another grain I remember recently, was one morning, you, me, and J were on my bed and you were both making me a “daddy sandwich with a tickle on top.” The giggles filling the room. The love flowed between you two and I was wound tightly in it. Mommy smiled in the bathroom mirror as she put on makeup.

How about this one: Watching you and Mommy ‘X’ the days of your calendar while you discussed upcoming events, parties, and T-ball games.  

Or the other evening, we were picking weeds before Mommy got home.  You had your too-big gardening gloves on and were picking dandelions leaf-by-leaf. You told me how this was “hard work” and how “Mommy will be so surprised and happy.”

Another: you running around the coffee table, your arms pumping like there was no tomorrow to show us that your new T-ball batting helmet doesn’t wobble.

And another: You picking out the little kid prayer book for your nightly story so that we could pray for GG, Beau, and Cody.

More: You coming in from the screen room, holding your play tools, asking, “Daddy, can we do a project?”

More and more: You correcting me on the name of some NASCAR driver (sorry, I forgot which one again).

And more: You asking me how echoes work and understanding well enough that I heard you telling J later.

You in the bathtub, whining when I informed you that I’d be getting your towel. When I explained to you how it made me sad to hear you talk like that, your mood flipped and you happily let me help you out.

Gah! There are so many. I’ll NEVER capture 10% of them…and of those that I do, I won’t get 10% of the true intensity of the feelings. In a year, there’ll be another 365 grains that rolled through my fingers. I’ll forget them and that saddens me. Even those written here will be buried by future words, videos, and pictures.

Though when that sadness grows too strong as I watch you sleeping, cuddled up with your little red blankie and big blankie. I remind myself of the point of these daily grains of memory. They’re not collectables. They aren’t mine to hoard. And if I ever need to be aware of their presence, or if you do, all that needs to happen is a quick look at the landscape of my soul – a lot of it is in the shape of a big E.

So, Happy Fourth Birthday, E! I can’t wait until tonight when I get to hold onto my grain for today.