When you’ve stood in the rain long enough to know it’ll never be the same. -M. Taggart
An average thought is cut in half with the noise of now. -M. Taggart.
There’s a path in back of the old school. We ran to it and slammed into the wood-line and then further. You laughed first and I held mine back. The woods slept while watching. We weren’t sure to leave or stay and then decided to ask a rock. We asked, ‘Would we be alright to stay?’ the rock said nothing. We jumped over the brook and leveled the ferns.
Time is irrelevant. Move faster and time slows down. Don’t argue with me. Argue with Einstein and his findings. I happen to agree with him. Time is a man made matrix. It has never been anything at all and yet we gauge much by time. When to take a break. How long we have to take it. When to wake up, do homework, go to sleep. Take time away and society falls apart. Speed time up and all slows down and maybe we don’t mind being late to work because there is no late. For me, I try and think without the issues of time. Late is a personal preference and if I am, the sensitivities of other will not speed my anxiety because that too is a mindful act which is among the worst. Anxiety is fear of the future without full understanding of its outcomes. It’s the worst type of game play. It happens and will lay you upon the floor, alone, and waiting to die. Yet, when it’s over, you’re fine and you move forward. Sometimes you forget it took place. It wasn’t real and we made it real. If we can make time without worry and worries real without despair we might be onto something.
Your due date is August 28th, 2015. Though I’ve guessed that you’ll be born on the 17th. Soon we’ll know. We live on the coast and plan on bringing you to the ocean when it’s safe to do so. It has been a mild summer to this point. Perhaps you’ll see large waves from a storm that’s out to sea. Winds from storms push waves higher and sometimes too high and they become destructive but are beautiful. Though, nothing is more destructive than man. We’ll talk about that at length.
Over the past few weekends we’ve prepared your room. Your mother picked two colors and the painting is complete. I’m unable to correctly see the light green but the blue is very nice. Your Aunt Shannon helped paint. In fact, she did the largest amount and was a great help. Your aunt lives a few miles from us and has been visiting often. There are a number of people waiting to meet you.
Especially your mother and I. You move more now than ever. We watch you create impressions on your mothers stomach. And yesterday we watched you via an ultra sound screen and you moved nearly non stop. We saw your feet kick and your hands open and close. We said hello. You’re doing great.
The fact is we’ve been waiting for you longer than nine months. We’ve been waiting for years. I’ve been waiting for you longer even than I’ve known your mother. It’s difficult to explain. I was meant to be a father and Megan was meant to be a mother. Finally we will be and it’s thanks to you.
You’re room is nearly finished. All that’s left to do is to place a few items on the walls. I’ll tell you something that you can poke fun at me with later. I didn’t want to paint your room. I thought the existing paint was nice and the color fine. Your mother wasn’t impressed with me. She was right. So now your room is two different colors and it’s what it should be. I was wrong.
In your room is a sliding chair. It’s a bit of a combination between a traditional rocking chair and a slider with a foot stool. The stool also slides. In the morning I take my coffee into your room and I sit on the chair and make it slide. I look at your crib and I imagine you standing there wanting to come out. I will see this soon. I still need to find a fitting Boston Red Sox hat for you. I’d like to see you standing in your crib with that on. And while you look at me I’ll explain to you who the best baseball pitcher in my lifetime is. His name is Pedro Martinez. Yesterday Pedro was elected to the baseball hall of fame.
I coached baseball for a number of years. Pedro was in his prime while I was coaching. For a time, Pedro had nearly perfect mechanics. I would study his pitching motion and try my best to coach his motion to players of his similar build. Though your Uncle Phil was built more like Roger Clemens and I coached him mainly using Roger’s mechanics. Your uncle was much better than I was at baseball. A few colleges wanted him to play for them. But, that’s another story.
Your mother had the baby shower at the Bridge. It’s not an actually bridge. It’s a nice restaurant that overhangs the canal and it’s near a bridge. There’s a room upstairs that can be rented for occasions such as a baby shower. Your great grandmother, Avis, both grandmothers, and all of your aunts were there. Your mother was told that she looked like a pregnant model. I know this because when I arrived at the end of the baby shower an employee told me the story. Below is a picture of your mother during your baby shower. I’ve mentioned before that your mother is beautiful. It’s hard to believe she is nearly 8 months along in this picture.
Sometimes at night, I write. And if I come out of my office to find your mother she’s almost always in your room. A few nights ago I found her folding your clothes.
I would not miss this process for anything. From the moment we found out to when your mother starting to show to the first time I saw you move with my own eyes. Sometimes I put my ear to your mothers stomach and listen to you. If I try and focus I believe I’ve heard your heart beat many times.
See you soon, Gavin.
There’s a bench at the end of the path. The bench faces a line of pine trees. Just on the other side of the trees lies the answers. Someday we’ll sit on the bench and discuss what’s to know. A frog hops near. We ask the frog if we ought to wait before we walk within the trees and he replies, ‘Wait. Wait. If you wait enough you’ll remember to wait and forget to not.’ We asked the frog what that means because we weren’t sure we heard him right and the frog told us, ‘Something will because you asked.’
Let us drink the Evil out- M. Taggart