This afternoon, whilst reading Dickens’s Great Expectations, Joshua, prowling around the perimeters of the living room, was searching franticly for small, dangerous objects to ingest: a bit of tin foil, a red thumb tack, and even a key that he had pried off an old keyboard. Mrs. Joe had once again accosted Pip by her hand when Joshua decided his carpet adventures were over. He pulled himself along the rug to over where I lied stretched out along the sofa. When he arrived, he let out a crude, babyish lament—it was as if he cried: “Father, why must you always neglect your posterity in your vain search of knowledge and wisdom. Put down that blasted book and tend to my needs.” Who could resist such a request? I let down my book and picked up my son. Joshua rested his cheek on my chest while I massaged the small of his back with the palm of my hand. His whimpers slowly turned to deep rhythmic pulls of air: the child asleep on my breast. We both slept on the couch for the better part of an hour, deepening our fraternal bond.
That was Wednesday, February 24, 2010
My story, however, may or may not be factually accurate.
Often, I am criticized for stretching the truth, omitting crucial details, and frankly, telling lies. You, who have accused me of such, have a legitimate argument.
Here’s actually what happened:
1. I wasn’t reading Dickens; I was reading Cristina Rossetti’s poem “Goblin Market”. Laura has just eaten then the goblins’ forbidden fruit—a blatant metaphor for sex—when Joshua crawled over to me. However, I had read the first eleven chapters of Great Expectations the previous night.
2. The thumb tack wasn’t red, it was blue. Another lie. Joshua has never, in his eight months of existence, come across sharp stationeries.
3. Joshua did not actually speak. If you didn’t catch this, God bless you.
4. Finally, I didn’t fall asleep. I tried, but I couldn’t get comfortable.
So why did I do it? Why did I lie? In my mind, what I told was the truth. I wasn’t trying to give people a factual account of my afternoon; I was trying to help people understand what I felt. Joshua didn’t say “why must you always neglect your posterity in your vain search of knowledge and wisdom.” But he did. No, I didn’t fall asleep with him on my chest; but it was better than any dream I’ve ever dreamt. The details don’t matter. What does matter, then? The emotions? the experience? the dream? the truth? I’m not sure, exactly. But something that does matter is that on Wednesday, February 24, 2010, at precisely 2:47:17pm I experienced my most profound moment as a Father.
