i love being a father because i learn to be all the things he wasn’t. i learn how to control the rage within me as my child throws a tantrum and i want to do nothing but hold her in her place, to let her know that i am the rock upon which all her fears can break.

i love being a father because i exaggerate my face and make funny sounds and keep all the howling within me at bay. i can redirect the tension and the confusion of just being in the world into sharp focus: take her hands, teach her to dance, try to get this silly little clown to follow some sort of rhythm.

i love being a father because i get to make it up as i go along. i get to be someone other than myself. i learn to be something bigger and stronger and more beautiful than i could ever be. in my child’s eyes i get to be alive even when i am dead inside. i can pretend that i am not broken. we can pretend all the scars inside are healed.