21w4d

In contemplating what it will be like to be a parent, and considering the things I want to incorporate into our child's upbringing - contrasted by the things I hope to leave out - I'm drawn to memories of my own childhood.

When I reflect on what it was like to grow up in our house, I'm immediately drawn to the earlier memories and my younger years - the years before our family dynamic shifted seismically due to circumstances both closely within and drastically beyond our control. I prefer to focus instead on the time when things seemed simpler, before we were drawn apart and against each other...before I was forced to acknowledge that shit happens and sometimes the only option available is to deal with it in whatever means available at the time.

I recall snow days, rare as they were in the South. I distinctly remember the smell of a fire in our fireplace, the taste of snow sprinkled with crushed Sweet Tarts, the sight of my mom in the kitchen window holding up steaming mugs of hot chocolate in an effort to draw us in from the cold.

I can feel the slippery plastic sensation of the tablecloth we used as our dinner table, spread on the living room floor as we settled in with loaded plates to watch tv. We never really sat at the table for a meal; instead, we sat cross-legged on the floor and became entranced in Disney movies or America's Funniest Home Videos, silent save for the incessant chatter that would erupt once the commercials began. It was these breaks that allowed us to catch up on everyone's day, sharing funny stories, school concerns, and the latest neighborhood gossip.

Summer days were spent outside, where swim team practice came early and the fireflies stayed late. I have fond memories of donuts at dawn before a morning spent driving my dad around on the golf course; lazy afternoons by the pool, where I'd squint through the blinding sun at my mom lounging on a deck chair; nights in bed, struggling to stay awake by focusing on the glow of my nightlight.

I never questioned the way things were, never doubted that this life was the best life anyone had ever had. I always felt safe, happy, and loved - and always knew family to be something secure and solid, full of sacred routines such as being tucked in every night and being pulled from sleep with the promise of a new day ahead.

These memories fill me with knowledge and inspiration- that providing for a child is more than a fiscal responsibility, more than physical presence and material belongings. It goes beyond putting food on the table and clothes on a back, beyond helping a child maneuver throughout days and nights. It's larger than I can even begin to imagine...and while I know I'll never be perfect, I have a bank to draw from and experiences to call upon as I attempt to figure it out.