I don’t really know what this post is about or even why I decided it should be blog post in the first place. All I can think is that I really liked it. I thought it would be interesting to share it with others. Not that it would be useful or anything, simply a pleasant read.
It’s not meant to mean anything in particular – at least in any philosophical way. It’s just something I conjured up the other day before going to bed. After I read it a couple of times, I knew it was a true gem. Only four paragraphs long, yet so deep with frustration and love. The love of a father towards his son, and of those little – apparently insignificant – moments that stick with you for the rest of your life. Here it is.
A very short midnight story
It’s almost midnight and I can’t really prevent my eyes from closing. I’m tired as hell, yet I can’t seem to convince myself into the idea that I should get some sleep.
I don’t have a big day tomorrow or anything, it’s just that my kid wakes up so goddamn early. Well, that’s what he’s supposed to do, and I can’t find an argument against that – at least a plausible one.
Sometimes he just stays awake, lying there in my regular-sized bed, staring at me directly into my eyes, even though I have them closed, like waiting for the slightest hint of evidence that I too, am awake.
At the first sight of a blink, he launches himself toward me. “Papa, papa,” he shouts with excitement. I open my eyes wide, he sticks his finger in one of them – it hurts.