ioanna,
at about 6, maybe 7 months, we were still at yiayia and papou’s house in the apartment upstairs, where you were outgrowing the bassinet quickly. I’d put you with your feet on the left and your head on the right side of it. I’d walk away, it was your nap time, baby must sleep, and you’d cry, annoyed. it was hard but dammit of course I gave in and I found you completely turned around. weren’t your feet over there and your head at the other end? am I suffering sleep deprivation? I worked nights at the time, slept even less than I do now. the next day, I made sure, head on the right, feet on the left and I walked out. you cried, etc, etc, I ignored it until you fell asleep and I snuck in and holy cow: head on the left, feet on the right. I looked at my hands, right hand head, left hand feet, but you were reversed. I was sure of it. did it again the next day and the same. how is this happening, how did your head end up where your feet were? you need to understand, this bassinet was narrow, very narrow, coffin narrow, another growth spurt and your legs would’ve hung over the lip of this thing.
so, as first born, all parenting is essentially an experiment. The next day, I put you in this just fitting bassinet and instead of walking away, I stayed in the room. you balling just a few feet away from me but I held fast. just when I could not bear it anymore, I see your tiny fingers over the lip. I see you grasping it, pulling yourself up, the bassinet shaking, tipping side to side, sit yourself up, perilously near the edge of this thing, wavering, and poof, tumbling over to the other side, head from right to left. just like that, literally head over heels, only three feet from the floor but it might as well as been a skyscraper for you.
another time, you were 3 or 4, we were at the playground, you were timid but eventually mustered up the courage to climbed up the slide by yourself. without my hand, without looking for me, it was the first time you didn’t. you had this smile on your face, so genuine, a breeze floating through your hair, you were looking at something in the distance, your future maybe. I saw it all then, I saw you belong to the world and it broke my heart. it’s hard to explain, I wanted to sweep you up into my arms and tell you that it was wonderful but terrible and you should never leave us, you should never grow up or old or have a life of your own, you were our life and you had to stay that way. but I was frozen, I was frozen by this moment of this shy girl finding confidence in herself, forgetting herself, being just herself in the world and my god, what a beautiful thing to see, to witness, to be a part of.
and yes, there was so much in between. reading batman comics, reading the Alice in WundLa book, or whatever it was, Captain Underpants, the China project, the jigsaw map, the explorer killed by pirates and the thing we tried to do with the map and magnets, playing piano while I worked out, playing tennis and bowling on the Wii, our arguments as you turned to your teenage years and we drifted, trying to figure out how to be close but also ourselves, playing in the pool in Florida in the rain, chasing you around the house, seeing you watch me destroy the wall to the room that would become the kitchen, helping me paint your room, disappointing you in one way or another over and over, singing to you, telling you stories as you drifted off to sleep, pushing you, challenging you, being amazed by your sense of humor, being enthralled with this child who became a girl and is now a lady.
but I keep coming back to that day, when you teetered on the edge of that bassinet, bobbling from right to left perilously close to the edge. it wasn’t you who fell head over heels at that moment: it was me, always.
love,
daddy
3/4/2020