for Lauren and Gerald, now joined by Henry

He should have arrived with
a list clutched in his tiny fist,
an instruction manual for this
new human, specifically tailored
for his particular self.

But no. They don’t send them
with one. I don’t know why.
Like it would be so much skin
off God’s nose to send a how-to
pamphlet (OK, maybe a set of
encyclopedias) called:

How to Be in the World

So, like every other parent,
you’re gonna have to guess.
Make your own list. What does
this kid need to know on his
road to becoming a fully
formed human?

One of you will likely want
to make sure he knows his way
around an engine, have him
peering into one when he’s
a toddler. The other one will
pass on her love of good movies,
how to gently pat the doggie
and kitties, and tie his shoes.

Both of you will read to him
endlessly, thinking, this book again?!
and then one day you will miss
those snuggly moments when
he reads on his own.

You will teach him to scramble
an egg and make toast, to brush
his teeth and hair, to aim first,
flush after, to pick up after himself
(some times more successful than
others), to ask for help and say
thank you, two of the best prayers,

how to be a good friend, and
to cultivate awe, as he will when
he becomes captivated by fire engines
and big trucks, by butterflies and
flowers that smell good.

You will, of course, both
steady him as he sets off on
his own two feet—something,
I’m told, good parents do
all the days of their lives, you
already excellent teachers, you.

Lucky him. Lucky you, setting
off on this great adventure
together. So much fun. Some tears.
Lots of laughter. It all adds up
to a life well lived.

Go do that.

LavaUmuchly,

Great Aunt Jan