[ja]cobdavis

I was rolling through old photos of my son recently.

I felt like I was loosing something. Not that he was growing up so much as I had made him wrong. I lost pieces of him – the always smiling happy giggle factory baby times. I feel guilty taking part of it away for some reason. In my frustrated teeth grinding anger at his inability to listen, or ignoring his passing moments, or “just a second”ing him, or simply not plopping myself in his way all the time. I feel like I’ve lost something looking at the old images of him too. Like I was missing something inside, a feeling of relaxing freedom and happy-go-luckyness that seems to have left after moving back to the city.

I feel mad at myself for some reason.

The kid and I need to adventure more, live dangerously again, release ourselves to the unexpected. Hell, we were going on long walks through blowing winters in new england; now we take in afternoons in the confines of our over-heated apartment building.