To Liam on His Twelfth Birthday
Liam,
As I think about this last year, the first place my mind travels is out west. I envision you climbing rocks everywhere we went: the Oregon coast, Yosemite, Joshua Tree. If there was something to be explored, you were out there chasing after adventure. It was like your spirit was going to bust out wherever you went. As a parent, it was sometimes frightening. You have this knack for charging off without a sufficient amount of forethought. Yet there is this spark in that fearlessness that I hope ignites something amazing in you.
This has been a year of uncharted territory for you. You started middle school. You performed in your first school play. You hit bumps of anxiety. You continue to run deeper into adolescence. All of these treks have been exciting, scary, difficult, annoying, and life-giving for you. I can see the tug-of-war going on in you everyday between wanting to still be our little boy and wanting to be more independent. Even as you continue to pursue the latter, you will always be the former. Your mom and I will never stop caring for you or loving you.
Is it ridiculous that this is your last year before you’re a teenager? Of course it is. As I have told you and your brother many times when you try to bait me into an existential crisis by pointing out how old you are, I know how time works. Yet I can still close my eyes and see you as a baby or as a fedora-wearing toddler or this mischievous kid. There is a voice recording that has been on my phone for over nine years in which a three year old you tells a wonderful meandering story. I know how you got from there to here, but I would be lying to say that there is not a small pang that make me miss all that you have been.
The flip side is we get to see all the things that you are and are becoming. Liam at twelve is my music-listening buddy. Each morning on the way to school, we’ll listen to different playlists from Taylor Swift to the 1980s to Weird Al to the 2000s. I love singing in the car with you and how I can make you roll your eyes but smile when I intentionally try to make up funny lyrics. You continue to be endlessly curious and I am regularly impressed by the knowledge you will just randomly drop about history or wildlife. You still love stuffed animals and creatures of all kinds. Every week when I have my overnight shift at the hospital, you make sure that a member of your menagerie will keep me company.
Your heart is big and so are your emotions. I sometimes worry for you because you feel it all and this is a world where people often feel a lot of hurt. Yet even as I want to protect your heart, I don’t ever want you to lose the way you feel for those around you. I love how you care about those who are vulnerable in our world and I am grateful for the way that you are able to be angry with powerful people who hurt others (yes, I know I try to pump the brakes on that anger too, but I am thankful you are better able to be in touch with that emotion than I).
You are funny and creative. You push boundaries and will likely be a handful as a teenager. You tell your people that you love them and you still give great hugs. Sometimes I wish you would stick with something rather than bouncing around to and fro. You love your cat Vader although you probably need to better sense when he doesn’t want to snuggle with you. You are adventurous but also love being under your blanket on the couch. You love your brother so much yet cannot resist the temptation to bug him. You are this wonderful, complicated not-so-little human and I am lucky that I get to be on this journey with you.
I hope and pray you know that your Mom and I love you more than you’ll ever be able to understand. I hope you know how many people—family and friends—who love you, are pulling for you, and are always there for you. I hope you never forget your baptism ten months ago and remember that God loves you and walks with you day by day. I hope you know how grateful I am to be your dad. I hope and will do all I can to help this twelfth year to be another adventure in discovering who you are to be.
Love,
Papa