Letter to 10-year old Hud

August 20, 2012

Hud,

I sometimes have no idea who you are and no idea how to talk to you. I feel I crowd you with both my physical stature and my desire to be close to you, to know you all the time. You are a brooding young man who feels the pressure of a father who relies on sarcasm and occasional fear to get his point across. I lay awake at night and sometimes feel that I am failing you, that, due to my lack of understanding and tender patience, that I will lose
you, that you will recoil further and further into your self imposed shell to get away from the pressure of pleasing me.

We bought you giant earphones for your birthday and I watched you, sitting away from your cousins, your friends and your family, listening to music, avoiding the interaction and attention that I crave so much and did not pity you, I envied you. For being strong enough to find solace in your own thoughts, to not feel the need to participate even when everyone else wanted you to join.  I hope that strength of personal choice lasts forever.

You are beautiful. Wavy hair the colour of wet wheat. Lips full and red, teeth not quite perfect, but close. Big lashes, eyes like underwater rocks, glistening and grey, stoic and lovely. You hug me sometimes out of nowhere and I can feel the rush of love through you and Hud, I simply bask in it and squeeze you tighter, wanting our hearts to stay this close forever. But when you look up at me (not for long) and smile, I do let go.

And then I watch you walk away.
.
I am terrified of the person you could become because of me, in spite of me, in spite for me and I am so thankful to your mother for offering you the balance that I sometimes lacked in my own life, right around your age that spurred on years of parental torment and missed opportunities.

But this isn’t about me.  This is about you.  A now 10 year old boy constantly battling the passionate desire to grow up and be cool and the indigenous innocence that still longs to cuddle and Lego build and make light saber sounds with his mouth.

I will always be there for you..  I will temper my anger with explanation and apology and try to get you to do the same. I am your friend, but I am your father first and that will drive decisions that you will not agree with.  We will fight and I will win most, but will admit defeat when I know I am just tired or mistakenly taking my frustration out on you.

I will always be there to listen to you and especially to make you laugh.

I could get drunk off your laugh.

Happy birthday my boy.

Love,

Dad.