New Lights

It is your very first Christmas and my first as a dad and the air is just extra magical. The usual lights hang on the banister and the garden window and the back patio, but this year their shimmer is not the same. Everything is brighter, more alive, this holiday world reflected in your eyes. Your tiny hand reaching out to the twinkling tree. Sitting on the floor in front of presents in the morning. A playlist of yuletide crooners, singing as if for you. Candy cane pajamas. A baby red Christmas dress. Family photos. Greetings from friends and relatives. Mom’s cooking—bruschetta and salmon and penne alla vodka and pumpkin pie. Plus a special treat for Apricot. It's a wonderland here in our small, humble home in snowless California. I lift you in the air and nuzzle you and wish you a merry everything and a happy always.

And so this year comes to an end. The year you were born and our world changed. I pause to reflect and look ahead and I just want more of this magical now. This joyous fatherhood. To continue to live this lovely, one-time life with grace and wonder, and to do some good while I’m here. To spend my days nurturing our family, holding your mom in the light, caring for you, nosing Apricot. To create, connect, adore, explore. To see new light in the everyday trappings and trimmings, the world in your eyes, merry and bright.