*Don't worry, little one, I've got you. Sshh, don't cry now. I'll not let anything happen to you--at least, I'll try my hardest to be the best father I can. It won't be easy. I'm new at this too, you know, and it's just the two of us. Your mother, she--she would be here if she could. She was so excited for your arrival; we both were. Only two more weeks and you were due and--that creep of a drunk driver swerved into our lane. Now here you are, safe, alive in my arms. A miracle. Yet, why did it have to be your mother who was taken? Why couldn't it have been me? She would have been so much better at raising you than me.

She had such dreams and plans for you, Austin. We both did. She had such fun putting together your nursery. Just wait till you see it. She wanted to foster your imagination, help you realize you can be anything you want to be when you grow up. So she painted and decorated your room with stars and rocket ships, planes, trains, cars and boats. She put a globe lamp on the small table near the rocking chair we bought for restless nights. And she lined a bookcase full with books she was going to read to you, to jumpstart your thinking and to capture your imagination. Such dreams.

"Perhaps he'll be a lawyer," she used to guess. "Or a doctor, or an airplane pilot. Or an astronaut!"

Her face was so expressive in her happiness I would laugh and agree you could be anything you wanted. And you will be. I will see you have that chance. The chance to go to a good college. The chance I squandered in my young foolishness.

Sshh now, it's ok. It's ok. No need to cry. Tthhatt's it, quiet down now. I've got you. Daddy's got you.

Austin, if only you could have known your mother. She was beautiful, you know, not in a Christy Brinkley way, but in her vivaciousness. She had a zest for life that was irresistible. Her blue eyes sparkled and she always had a ready smile for anyone needing one. She hardly said a harsh word about anyone, and had an innate curiosity, never outgrowing her love for exploration and learning. And her laugh...it was infectious. You couldn't not join in once you heard it. She was a breath of fresh air in a roomful of stale, old people. And the sun...the sun...it seemed brighter when she was around. It seemed to halo her head, bringing out even paler streaks in her long golden hair.

I miss her. So much. I'll always miss her. There isn't and won't ever be another like her. Her loss hurts so much it hurts to breathe sometimes. The pain gets intense, the tears choke and clog my throat and I can't hold them back. My heart feels as though someone has taken a piece of it, and it's bleeding inside. Why couldn't it have been that creep that died, instead of her? How was he so lucky he lived, only suffering a broken back and leg? Why did she have to join Heaven's angels so soon? Doesn't God know we need her here?Doesn't He know I can't do this on my own?

I look at you now, quiet and sleeping against my chest, and I'm amazed that my heart can feel anything other than coldness, rage and misery. It's true, what they say about holding your child in your arms and feeling a sense of wonder and a love you never experienced before come over you. I never knew I could or would love someone this much like this. It's new and strange.

Watching you sleep, hearing the little baby sounds you make, I know I'm lucky to have you here with me. If I'd lost you with your mother, I would have gone crazy. I wouldn't have wanted to live.

You are so tiny in my arms, so innocent and trusting, so helpless. I'm overwhelmed. Overwhelmed and scared. And this is the one time I'll admit son, I'm quaking like a leaf inside, from head to toe. I'm afraid of failing you.

How are we going to make it?

Looking at your small face, I know we must. We have to. And some way we will. We're both bound to make mistakes. I'll lose my temper sometimes and yell; for that I apologize in advance. But know when I yell and give you punishment, I yell because behind my anger will be fear for your safety and frustration over your disobedience and poor choices. And please understand Austin, though you may resent me for the punishments I'll give out, their purpose will be to help you understand the consequences and hopefully help you make better decisions.

I'm not perfect, but I'll do my best. I'll read to you, encourage you, support you and see, if I can, that you have every advantage and opportunity your mother and I never had as kids and want you to have. Remember, kid, you can be anything you want to be.

I love you, son.

* For The Alchera Project.

moon phase