BE RIGHT THERE

Dear Spike:

When you are older, you will kneel beside your window sill and watch the birds hopping from branch to branch in the lilac bush. And I will stand quietly in your doorway, lean against the door frame, and sigh.

When you are older, you will walk to the park, all by yourself, for the very first time. And I will sneak out the back door, slip down the alley, and secretly watch you from across the street.

When you are older, you will stay up late to finish a report that you should have started working on days before. And I will brew a cup of coffee, add a lot of cream and sugar, and set it on the table beside you.

When you are older, you will be angry at me for not allowing you to go to a movie or a concert or out with some friends and you will storm up the stairs and slam your bedroom door. And when you open your window to sneak out, later that night, I will just happen to be right there in the backyard, watering the garden at 2 a.m.

When you are older, someone will break your heart. And I will stock your room with tissues, flowers, lavender-blueberry chocolate bars and a stack of Phil Collins albums. And the next morning we will go to breakfast at a diner with a lot of good looking servers.

When you are older, you will go on a trip far away from home. And I will wait by the phone with my computer in my lap, clicking anxiously on the “get new mail” button in anticipation of hearing from you.

When you are older, you will have a child of your own. And I will try hard not to call you every single evening to hear my grandchild giggle, gurgle and cry. But I probably will, anyway.

When you are older, you will bring your family for a visit to our home. And your child will kneel beside the window sill and watch the birds outside. And you will stand quietly in the doorway, lean against the door frame, and sigh.

And I will stand quietly, down the hallway, and watch you. And sigh.

Love,
dad