And then he will be four.
Early childhood is a collection of memories that a child never remembers, and parents never forget. Twenty, thirty, forty, even fifty years on – these memories live on in parent’s minds, as fresh as the day on which they were created.
And boy, do these parents bore you by repeating these stories for the nth time, again, and again, and again. Usually starts with – You know, when he was five…
I don’t find those stories boring anymore. For one, they serve as reference points of sorts – how was I, when I was his age? Was I as naughty…or naughtier? Did I ask the same questions, did I laugh the same way…was I a fussy eater? The questions are endless, and the answers comforting, whatever they may be. It just feels nice to re-learn how I was when I was so young, and then look at Keshav and wonder – when will I be able to bore him with my own memories of him?
As he snuggles close to me, sometimes running his fingers through my beard, and saying – papa – I know – there will come a day when he will stop doing this, and start to grow up – the bond will stay, but possibly not the closeness…the hardest thing for a parent, I read somewhere – is to let go of their kids. Which they do someday, and I will have to as well. But can we slow down time just a little until that day arrives? Not by much, just a little – just enough to savor this a bit more, to hug him and cuddle him a few times more…
Four years back, when he came into my world, I really didn’t know much about parenting. Actually, I didn’t know anything about it. I had not held a baby yet, anyones baby, yet here was my own, yawning in my face as he looked around wondering where he was. I had written to him about this experience earlier, and one sentence stayed with me..
And what a 15 minutes that was! When you entered the room, we were strangers. Meeting for the first time. But when you left, on the way to our maternity ward, we were father and son.
It’s been four years since those first 15 minutes, but I am clueless no more. He learnt to crawl, then stand and then walk (and now run), and so did I. We grow up with our kids, little by little, learning along the way. I learnt too – discovering facets about myself that I had not known existed. A father and a son have a bond that is created by nature, but grown together. I am trying too. But that bond of friendship will come later.
Today, all I want to do is to hold you close, never mind the growing up bit. We have time for that Keshav. You are only four.
It’s his birthday tomorrow, and he just fell sick. Doesn’t matter – he doesn’t know much about birthdays other than having some cake – which we will get him. Birthdays are malleable at this age – we can celebrate a week later.
For now, let me reminisce on the wonderful moments that we have shared, together – those endless selfies, those short little videos, those laughs and cries and everything in between – all infinite markers in the memories that will become stories later. Yes, those stories that I will end up telling you as the years go by, which you will surely tire of. But not me. No.
Not me.
Wish you a very happy birthday my son. Children love their parents, they adore them, but you know what? Parents love their children just a little bit more:) You will know my son. You will know one day:)
Happy birthday!