A Letter for Charlie Before His First Thanksgiving

Hi there, kid. I hope you, if you ever look back on these letters, don't associate a lack of posts about you with a lack of interest I'm taking in you. You are a constant treasure, a forever and always joy to me, and each day brings with it so much newness. Just this week you began, when I held you up against my chest, putting your hand against your ear like you're a real casual kid, just hanging out. Our somewhat new game of me moving you up and down fast, and hearing that exhilaration of your laugh, that quickened parts of me I didn't know I had.

And your smile for me--that same playful and contented smile you give me every time you see me: I can't tell you how that opens me up and doesn't so much make me whole as it does expand the parts of me into a new whole. So yes, I've done a poor job of prioritizing the writing of my thoughts about you on these pages against the other time occupations of my life. I want to assure you that the missing words are simply a result of bad time management.

So tomorrow is your first Thanksgiving. This won't be particularly meaningful to you in the present, since you'll pass up turkey, stuffing, and the rest for your bottle, and you'll drift in and out of the conversation that is about matters you could care less about. As is so often the case, we, your family and those close to you, are happy to have you here on your first Thanksgiving not so much for what it means to you, but for what it means to us. Sure we have a lot to be thankful for this year--we have a healthy, vibrant, growing, perfect boy in our midst, among our other happinesses and joys. Thanks, Jason Charles, for giving us a new and innocent contentment we'd lost track of in our busy lives.

And thank you, son, for everything you mean to us. Later, as you read these words, you'll probably laugh at me, and say "Dad, why would you thank me for something I had no control over?" Knowing me, I'll say something faux-intelligent, like "it's the matters we don't control that mean the most," like I'm a fortune cookie writer, but what I'll really mean is I had to thank you because whatever it is that made you what you are has always been within you. To embrace that spirit and soul, I needed to say it through you because I don't have a better way. Now stop asking tough questions and go eat some more of Mom's food. Love you.--Dad