Sick Boy

This morning, as I wiped the only hour of sleep I got last night from my eyes

I was startled to have this young man come scrambling on top of me, half sobbing, one quarter 

hyperventilating and one quarter handsome as all hell.

He said he was having a panic attack.

It was 5:40 in the morning.

This planted the seeds of an all day panic attack, but at the time I was unaware

of this fact and I proceeded to do what I always seem to do lately and 

tell him to quiet down lest he wake his baby brother and then god have mercy 

on us all for we shall all feel that one's wrath...

Which is mighty.

This guy, this guy that has been known as Burger, he was sick.

And I felt as though I failed him this morning.

And this is a heartache.

I suppose I am often 

too hard on myself.

I want so badly to do right by him

and this clouds the moment

and I often end up focusing 

on what I want rather than what

he needs

Maybe? Probably?

I am being dramatic though.

I told my coworker today, 

"My reward for making it through the day is to see both my children tucked into their beds, snoring."

This is basically true.

Because one day doesn't define you as a person.

It's a long game that you enter into upon becoming a parent.

A game that doesn't end.

I told another worker bee once that I only can see the world now through the lens of being a father. 

I have no memory of sleeping in.

I have no memory of myself as a being who isn't relied upon to be responsible, kind, patient and loving.

Becoming a parent, you say goodbye to who you think you are.

It is no longer about that person.

It is no longer about "you"

There is only the child.

This is how it is.

You find time to fit yourself into the cracks around them.

I am fine with this.

It's not like I was in the middle of Law School or anything.