Not mine

About choice, change, and fatherhood

It's very late; everyone is asleep, and the truth is that I want to be in bed too. Badly.

Instead, I'm telling myself to keep writing as letters get blurry in front of my eyes and ideas mix with dreams while fighting myself to stay awake. It's Wednesday, and I still plan to hit the 'Publish' button, although this one is different.

From now on, life will never be the same, and that's ok. For me, that has always been the point of it. As much as I like routine, consistency and repetition (and under the right circumstances, thrive on it). I've never been interested in living the same life over and over again. Change is part of what brings beauty to it. I embrace it.

When I think about it, I could have kept life unchanged, very much the same every single day, with something different here and there from time to time. Maybe some extra options available to me. Autonomy and independence.

Instead, the choice was continuous change and disruption; inviting inconsistency and irregularity, and with it, tiredness, lack of sleep, days that blur and whatever comes, goes and happens in between.

I choose life, but not mine, his. His life, his sleep, his routine, his consistency. His lack of autonomy and complete dependence.

I choose fatherhood, and I already know it's totally worth it.

I love you, son. Welcome to your life.