Go forth, little Gabriel.
I was not a pre-ordained parent. Coming out of college I didn’t necessarily foresee my future in that way. I didn’t ache to follow in my father’s footsteps or have some as-yet undetermined need met by the presence of a child. But life led me in that direction. So I buckled in and willingly went along for the roller-coaster ride.
Saturday, the youngest of my two children turns six. Today, this pint-sized Leo makes the literally small, but metaphorically huge, leap to kindergarten. We’ve been here before, having tasted our first pangs of parental release with Gabriel’s now 4th-grade older brother, Eamonn. But this time there is a distinct sense of transition and finality.
I will once again make the familiar drive to a beloved old (some would say, in our modern age, “quaint”) elementary school whose sights, smells and sounds remind me of my own. I’ll engulf his tiny paw of a hand with a tighter grip than normal, his little backpack bouncing as he walks alongside me.
He’ll excitedly point out his locker and lead me down the hall through the morning bustle and chatter to his classroom. We’ll share in his excitement and take pictures. His new teacher will smile knowingly and the door will close behind her as my wife and I wave through the glass. Then we will gaze upon each other with a look that encapsulates the distinct emotional combination of elation and resignation only moms and dads know.
Gabriel, with your shock of blonde hair, bright eyes, infectious laugh and unceasing smile, you have always been summer’s child, radiating happiness, warmth and light. You are stout of heart and body, rambunctious, fearless and undeniably hilarious. Like your brother, you are a gloriously unique and precious combination of chemicals, quirks and qualities inherited from bloodlines that ramble like rivers.
You have exposed my flaws and pushed me to the absolute precipice of my patience, while teaching me I’m capable of more than I ever imagined. As your mom and brother have done before you, you continue to tame my cynicism, make me a stronger, better man and fill me with a kind of love I didn’t know was missing.
Like beach sand in my hand, I now blow the memories of your infancy to the wind. I’ll undoubtedly sift back through them in piles of photos and videos, if only to momentarily relive it. But for now I look forward with great anticipation. To the endless adventures still ahead of you. To all the good you will no doubt give and receive. To the mark I have faith you will make on a world that needs your fresh energy, enthusiasm and spirit.
My one fervent wish is that I don’t do something colossally, dangerously stupid. So I can be around long enough to witness and experience all you do with your life, as your brother does with his. For I know I will be one astoundingly proud and happy Dad.
Go forth, my little monkey munchkin man Gabriel. We will always be here for you.
