I look at our baby and in that moment –

I understand not only how much my parents love me

but that once again,

life has given me a new kind of love to share.

 

Books spill words of mother’s love,

rightly so, for mothers are our genesis.

They bear and care for us, feeding us love.

Even if we are naughty, they still love us.

When older, we are still their babies.

 

But what of fathers, what do they feel?

Can we explore the growth of love?

How it begins, how it changes,

whom we give to and who shares it.

Boy or girl, man or woman, love is!

Love is born, love changes, love matures,

love is offered, love is rejected, love is returned,

love is in a word, a gesture, a glance, a sacrifice.

Love is how we feel about those who are dear to us,

love does not die easily but it can be worn away.

Love, real love, is the best we can give

and perhaps it grows this way.

 

I do not remember being a baby, do you?

If we could, I’m sure we would remember loving –

the soft and gentle creature who nurtured us.

She is our whole life.  She is our world.

She is there at our beginning, our breathing,

our care, our feeding, our human needs.

She is everything to us and so a love is born.

 

A baby grows a little and perceives others.

Others who want to share this love.

The love for mother stays but there is room

for a shared love in a growing consciousness.

Love of others and of the things around us.

A gentle touch, a soft voice, a caring smile,

a firm but knowing clasp, security.

The love that shows in the faces of siblings,

of aunts and uncles and grandparents and friends.

More months, more love, more understanding.

More laughs, more games, more rhymes.

More hurts, more tastes, more tears

and all the time love grows, in small pieces –

it becomes a complex emotion that we accept

but do not fully appreciate.

This, the greatest of human gifts.

 

The years troll by trailing lures that fascinate.

To us, our wants become more important than our needs.

But still our love grows for those close to us.

We learn to walk.  We learn part of a language.

Mother teaches us many things. She is wise.

A mother is the font of all knowledge.

A father is fun to play with, big, noisy,

foolish Dad doing silly things to make us laugh.

He reads stories and changes the words,

Mum never does that. She has a gentle voice.

We love them both but differently.

They both love us but differently.

 

What is love?

 

And so the seasons roll, waves on a beach.

Birthdays and Christmases, slow to come,

seem to flash by in one glittering moment

like scenes through a car window.

We enjoy the wrapping paper and the noise it makes –

as much as what is carefully hidden inside.

Gifts to celebrate our birth and love.

 

Then too soon, perhaps, we head for school.

Mum leaves us at the huge glass door of learning.

She smiles but her eyes are strange sad.

We do not understand that she is giving –

part of herself away, but love is best when shared.

Given to let it grow and be returned, one day.

 

And in the place of learning we see friends.

There is the boy from down the street.

There is the screaming little girl we chase.

There is the big boy who delivers the paper.

Every one we know seems to be here.

It is exciting!

We are shown our room.  It is big. It has desks.

There are chalkboards.  There are paintings on the walls.

 

There are pictures and puzzles. there are toys and pets.

This is a fun place.  But where is mum?

Where is the bathroom?  What do I do now?

I feel afraid, like when that big dog barked at me.

I want my mummy. I start to cry.  I am very sad!

 

Then I feel an arm around me.  “Don’t cry,

your mum will come for you later.

We are going to have fun here.  You will learn –

all sorts of things.  Would you like to hold the hamster?

We will draw and paint pictures for your mum and dad,

 

Would you like to do that?”

She does not smell like my mum but she is warm.

She has a nice voice. She is soft and gentle.

I feel comfortable but still want my mum.

She dries my tears and gives me the hamster.

He is warm and soft, like my cat.  “What is his name?”

 

After a few days all the strangeness goes away.

I enjoy all the things we do. I enjoy learning songs.

I enjoy learning very difficult things like numbers.

I can recite the alphabet.  I have a gold star on my paper

to show my mum.  I am very proud.

I am also starting to love my teacher, she knows a lot.

But I still love my mum best.  I will give her a picture.

I like recess best and drawing and lunch break and games

and running and painting and secrets and my new friends.

But I love my mum best in all the world,

even more than my teacher, even if she does know everything.

 

We had hot dogs at school one day.  Some mums came

and then we ate them with ketchup and relish. Yummy!

I told my mum.  I said, “I love hot dogs.”

Mum said a strange thing.  She said. “come, sit by me

we need to talk about something.”  I said, “OK.”

Mum said. “I would like to talk about love.

There are something’s you can love and something’s

that you should not use the word, love, for.

You can love Dad and Deb and me and Marny the cat

and lots of people and animals and art but

in our family we do not say that we love hot dogs

and other food things.  We say that we enjoy them.

To enjoy is different from loving.  Loving is very special.

We do not say we love someone unless we mean it.

Do you understand what loving means?”

“Yes.” I said.  “I love you till my eyes sting.

But food can be very nice to eat.”

She gave me a big hug and we sat quietly together.

 

Dad came home.  He was very tired.  He works hard.

Mum says he works very hard for us all.

Sometimes he can be grumpy, when he is tired.

Today he was happy.  We went outside and played.

I love my Dad.  He is different from my Mum but

he is fun and plays tricks on Mum.

Mum pretends to be angry but she is laughing.

They hug and kiss a lot.  Sissy stuff!

Dad picks me up and throws me into the air –

and catches me again.  It is scary but fun.

I want him to keep doing this for a long time.

Mum calls us for supper.  It smells good.

My mum tells him about our talk about love.

Dad looks at Mum and smiles.

He said to me.  “Did I ever tell you that I love you?”

Winking at Mum I say. “I can’t remember.”

“Well I do, very much.” He said.

 

One day, I tell Mum about a friend I have at school.

Her name is Barbara.  She has blond hair.

I think she is very pretty and she likes me too.

But it makes me sad in my heart, I tell Mum.

“Why is that she asks.  Why does she make you sad?”

I don’t know, Mum but if we hold hands

the other kids make fun of us and tease us.

I like Barbara very much but I don’t like

being teased by the other kids.

I don’t like it when they make Barbara cry.

They say she is my girl friend.

I say.  “No she isn’t.”

But Mum she really is my friend and a girl.

What is wrong with having a girl friend?

I don’t understand.  I feel bad in my heart.

I like my other friends but she is different.

 

Mum gives me a hug.  It is a fine thing

to have a friend who is a girl.

What you are learning about is a new

and beautiful part of growing up.

You are learning of a new type of love.

It is a wonderful thing love. It grows up with us.

We are given the gift of love to share.

The love we share is the best kind of love.

Perhaps the other children do not understand this.

They may soon, then perhaps they won’t tease you.

In the mean time, be careful how you show your love.

 

I forgot to tell you all the things we do together.

We go swimming.  I can swim underwater.

Dad is teaching me to dive off the side.

Dad and Mum can swim fast.

They dive off the high board.

Soon Dad will take me up there to jump off.

I’m a bit scared but I’ll be OK with my Dad.

My Dad helps with Cubs.  We go camping.

Our family does lots of good stuff together.

In the winter we go skiing.  It is lots of fun

but it is very cold and sometimes scary.

I asked my Dad. “Aren’t you ever scared Dad?”

He said.  “Yes I am scared sometimes but

unless we face our fears we will always be scared.

We must try to understand our fears.

It is silly to do things that are dangerous

unless we know what we are doing.

But not to do things because we are afraid of trying,

is cowardly.  You will not be a coward because we

are showing you how to do all sorts of things.

We are very proud of how you are growing up.

 

Dad seem so strong but I have seen tears in his eyes.

Not like when he hits his finger with the hammer.

Then he just says bad words and Mum covers her ears

and says.  “Not in front of the children dear.”

Then Dad jumps up and down and says.

“Shzbut, shuzbut!!@#$*%+?!!”  Like in the comics.

Then we all laugh and Dad asks Mum to kiss it better.

She does but not on his finger.  Sheesh!

No he has tears in his eyes when he reads poetry,

or when he hears beautiful music or when

we tell him that we love him.

Dads sure are strange people!

 

The years go by faster now.  High school is difficult.

The girls always get the best marks.

I am not as clever as them but my parents

have told me it is, how hard I try, which is most important.

One day, they say, I will have to work in the real world.

Being clever is great but having “drive” is more important.

I have a paper round.  I enjoy this.  I make some pocket money

and can wave at the pretty girl next door.

She pretends not to notice me but then

why is she always near the window  –

when I go by in the morning?

Mum says that girls are cunning; she should know!

 

Growing up takes so long.  I have spots and am clumsy.

Mum and Dad don’t seem to understand me anymore.

I want to be free.  I want to do what I want to do now,

not go to school and learn stupid stuff from books.

Why wont they let me get a job and earn money.

There are so many exciting things to be done

instead of just learning, learning, learning.

One day at supper Dad says.

“Perhaps it is time for you to have a real adventure.”

Perhaps you are ready to spread your wings

and fly off to some where else for a while.

Then when you come back you will understand

why we want you to have more education.

What a scary thought.  Go off on my own.

Wow, better not let them see how scary that feels.

Dad and Mum do not say anything more except

that if I want to do this I had better understand

that I will have to help pay for this adventure

and that as usual there will be rules!

 

This is how I become an exchange student.

This is how I went to boarding school.

This is how I finish up in a strange country

where everything is different, even the language.

Mums and Dads sure know how to show you

how little you know and how hard it is to

earn money to do important things.

Boarding school is OK but hard too.

There are lots of rules and lots of homework.

New sports, new foods, new ideas, new ways,

new language, new music, new art, new friends.

Different history, different manners, different culture.

I’m glad I am at boarding school, at least I belong here.

How would I make out if I just lived in the town?

What would I do to eat and sleep?

 

I remember how excited I was to be leaving home.

I also remember that I was scared too.

I remember how brave Mum looked when she said goodbye –

but I could tell that she was close to tears.

Dad was gruff.  You’ll be OK.  Just do your best and

please write soon.  We will want to share your adventure.

Then he took off his special wristwatch and gave it to me.

I knew then that this was a difficult time for him too

but why did this parting make them so sad?

I was too excited to think or to be sad.

Now I realize that I did not understand them at all.

 

So a year of my life went by and I came home.

Everything seemed the same but somehow different.

Mum and Dad seemed different too.

I know that I was different.  I think I had grown up

but not just that, I understood a little more about life.

I understood that life was not always easy.

That like learning to swim you must be in the water.

Now I am ready to jump into the pool of learning.

 

So the learning continued.  So the years fled.

So I made new friends.  So I fell in love a couple of times.

Well who’s counting?  Though Mum always seemed to know!

Then University was over and now its time to find a job.

A couple of those and then one day I met this special woman.

She was different.  She was exciting and warm and wonderful.

I wondered if anyone had ever felt this way before.

I could only think about her.  I knew what I had to do.

 

We were married.

One day she told me.  “I’m going to have a baby.”

Wow me a dad!  Am I ready to be a dad?  Do I know how to be dad?

I am very happy, We make lots of plans.  We tell our folks.

We chose names.  We buy baby things.  We worry about the baby.

We don’t care if it is a boy or girl but we hope it to be healthy.

Nine months is a long time to wait for this miracle.

We attend special classes.  I feel a little silly.

One day it happens!

Off we go to the hospital.  It seems to take forever.

I’m not sure I can handle this.  I have to handle this!

One minute I am just a terrified man in a silly robe.

The next minute I am a dad holding our baby.

I am overwhelmed with joy and relief.  I am crying.

My wife smiles at me.  I tell her that I love her dearly.

 

I look at our baby and in that moment –

I understand not only how much my parents love me

but that once again life has given me a new kind of love to share.

 

 

David Gar lick, Puerto Vallarta, January, 2000