My Thoughts at 2 a.m. Every Night for the Past Two Weeks:
I should be sleeping. What’s that noise? Did Aiden get up? Maybe he’s out of the crib. Maybe he’s downstairs making popcorn and watching Caillou.
I hate Caillou. We’ve seen every episode a thousand times. Stupid cartoon with the perfect dad who’s an athlete, musician, worker, overall renaissance man.
I could eat some popcorn. Forget popcorn, I could eat some hot wings. Yeah, hot wings and a beer. Wonder if there’s any in the fridge? I need to start working out.
Do I really have to go to work tomorrow? How many things need to be handled? I need to print off our tax return forms. Need that tax return.
So many things to be fixed. Bills to be paid. Problems to solve.
I should be writing. Chapters need editing, sections need improving. I should be submitting essays, short stories, fiction, new and old creations.
How can I do better tomorrow? How can I make sure it is different from today? How can I keep this stress to myself and not let Val know about the weight that sits on my shoulders?
How can I live up to my expectations, to be a provider, to build a future, to put two boys through college and help them on their way to their own families?
We’re getting older. I graduated high school fifteen years ago. Our prom songs are mysteries to kids today. What about fifteen years from now?
How can all this shift from reality to inspiration, from doubts that masquerade as “common sense” and cynical misunderstandings to inspiration that unlocks the future of change and liberating truth.
I have a dream. A dream to write, to provide a voice for those who can’t speak, a dream to operate a business and outreach that can enhance and revolutionize the fight against poverty. A dream to change the world and make it better.
So my sons can be proud of me.
So they can tell their kids, one day, that their dad is their hero.
Speaking of the kids, how were they off school yesterday and I wasn’t off work?
Tap on my shoulder. “Daddy will you lay with me?”
I’ll be down in a minute.